Pining Forgiveness

Pining: Forgiveness

Note from Author:

This is the same story by the same name that was posted one chapter at a time throughout for NaNo Write 2024. I've tried to correct errors but otherwise, there are no notable changes. This time I'm posting the whole story at once. I do not, at this time, have any intention of taking it down again.

I wanted the tagline to read, "How do you choose between the person you would die for and the dream that you live for?" but it was too long for the field. I tried to write a sequel, Pining: Frenemies, about Ashley and Roman but haven't been feeling it. I've moved onto other sizable projects that are taking me longer than expected but hope to return to it someday. A very big thankyou to all the people here at Literotica that make it possible to share my stories.

Hope you enjoy.

Four Dick Handicap

Collin

I massaged my bare shoulder with my right hand and gave it an experimental roll. Fuck, it hurt.

I'd pulled my left trapezius yesterday running the equipment raft through Boxcar. Boxcar was one of those rare class three rapids that was decidedly not fun. The monster suck-hole at the tail end of the rapid had a way of eating boats, lifejackets and people.

Doug, the Master Guide on our Deschutes River Adventures expedition, usually had us pull out at Wapinitia but one of the other hands had put a tear in the bottom of the equipment raft when he went right over Oh Shit Rock! in Whitehorse. Yup, it was a rock with a name, and, unless you were really good at reading the water, it's invisible until you are right on top of it. "Oh shit--rock!" was exactly what a boater screamed when they finally saw it.

Anyhow, Doug had wanted me to take the raft down to Maupin where we'd have more room and resources for repairs. I'd entered Boxcar with a boat full of water, a thousand pounds of gear and who knows how many millions of gallons of river trying to push me into the hungry maw of death. When I'd pulled my shoulder, not rowing had not been an option.

"Hell, YEAH! Raaah!" some dude hulk roared at his teammates as he stalked back from the volleyball net. His celebration pulled my attention back to the game. Co-ed on a men's net. That meant if you had a dick you weren't permitted to jump when facing off against a chick. It was a significant handicap against the all-female team that'd dominated the last ten matches. That this dude had managed to score on them was borderline miraculous. It wouldn't change the outcome of the game, but I understood. Even one point was a victory when you were so terribly out matched. I hoped my housemates, and two of their right-now girls, would fare as well when we got up.

I massaged my shoulder again and let my attention wander. It was the last Saturday before classes started and Looking Glass Lake had turned into an impromptu back-to-school party. Greek Row, the dorms and student housing were just across the old highway from the lake's volcanic pumicite beach. Most the year the beach would be shrouded in mountain shadows during the afternoons, but right now, as the equinox approached, the sun found the gap between South and Middle Sister to shower the lake with late summer warmth. It'd be a mosquito paradise if Cascade Pines University and the nearby town of Pining didn't wage a genocidal campaign against the little monsters. CPU had to have one of the most beautiful views of any university in the world.

But it was not the view of the four snowcapped peaks that blotted out the western sky that held my gaze. The Three Sisters and neighboring Broken Top were beautiful. They had nothing on college girls in bikinis. There were so many. All of them different. All of them beautiful.

Take the one not ten feet away. She was catching the last rays of the summer on her tanned back, thighs and palmable ass while staring out at the lake and chatting with her friends. Her long brown hair had the barest hint of red and was nearly as dark as her black string bikini. I couldn't see her face but she seemed to be watching the antics of the fifteen or so jet skis doing flips and tricks about the lake or maybe the piggyback water polo game in the shallows. Fuck, from this side she was hot. I needed to see the rest of her. I needed to introduce myself.

I chugged the last of my Obsidian Stout--liquid courage--and stepped forward. The girl laughed at something one of her friends said.

I froze. Her laughter was an arrow to my heart. The melody was like a favorite half-remembered song from childhood. I knew that voice. I knew that laugh. I knew that chick, but I couldn't place her. Maybe if I could see her face? Ask her name? A nauseous, nervous energy pumped through my veins. It'd been years since I'd been anxious when approaching a woman.

"Captain, Collin, we're up!" A jolt of pain seared my left shoulder as Lucas clamped a hand over it. I probably shouldn't have agreed to play volleyball, but I'd powered through worse injuries on the ice. I took one last glance at the hotty in front of me, tossed my empty by the house cooler and jogged over to the court.

The tallest of us, Roman, Lucas, and I crowded the net. I could touch the top of the barrier with my wrist while flat footed so there was a chance I'd get a spike past these women. Clara, Shannon and Owen dropped to the back.

Some short, blonde cutie in an itsy bitsy bikini nailed her jump serve. The volleyball made like a ballistic missile to our side of the net. By some miracle, Shannon got under the ball and sent it straight up. Clara lobbed me the perfect set.

A brunette bombshell got her fingers on my flat footed spike. Another brunette set and the first girl somehow got over the top of me. She hit the ball so hard it made meteorite tracks. Owen dove, barely keeping the ball in play. In a move for the record books, Clara tumbled over his back and bump-set the ball to Roman.

Roman killed it. The girls on the other side of the net dove out of the way.

Out of bounds.

One point.

Them.

Our opponents owned us. We claimed a few points with rocket launcher down balls but even when we put Clara and Shannon up front, they couldn't overcome the other team's triple-team. With zero dudes on our opponents' team, it was like six on two. Our girls were working with a four dick handicap. How was that fair?

"Hey!" The tall chick that'd rejected my spike jogged up to me. I picked up my Deschutes Brewery tee from the pile by our cooler. "Good game!" She extended her hand.

I wasn't so sure about that. They'd killed us. I tugged the washer thinned material of my shirt over my chest as she openly checked me out. I returned the compliment as I shook her hand. Despite the "rug burn" on her elbows, stomach and knees--pumicite didn't make the softest beach--the woman was hot enough to melt a glacier. Besides, I could appreciate a girl who played hard and wasn't afraid to get dirty. "Yeah, you too."

"I'm Michelle."

"Collin."

"I was wondering if..." Her eyes flitted away and her cheeks turned red. It was cute.

As the star center of a Division One hockey team, I was used to puck bunnies hitting on me. But puck bunnies were bold--predatory. Michelle's hesitation was a breath of fresh air.

"Sure, you seem chill, I'd be happy to hang sometime." I fished my phone from a pocket in my cargo shorts. "What's your number?"

Michelle smiled and, oh yeah, this girl was hot. She reached for my phone so I unlocked it for her. She plugged in her number and snapped a quick picture.

"Shelly!" The blonde in the teeny weeny bikini hollered. She urgently waved Michelle back towards the net. Michelle glanced over her shoulder, handed me my phone and then bounced on her toes. "I... uh... it was nice meeting you, Collin." She was waiting for something.

"Yeah, you too, Shelly." I gifted her one of my crooked grins. More than one chick had told me it looked cocky. Many of those same chicks had jumped on my dick. "I'll call after classes start. Wednesday or Thursday." I meant it. I would call--on Wednesday or Thursday.

I got plenty of tail. I'd been accused of being a player. I probably was but I'd hurt a girl real bad once and I swore I'd never do that again. Not intentionally. Not if I could help it. I didn't care if women were manipulative bitches. If I told a woman I was going to do something, I did it.

"Okay" Michelle flashed me another smile. She really was beautiful when she smiled. I'd regret dumping her when our relationship ran its course. But it would. The manipulative bitch thing got in the way of long term--at least with me. She ran back to the volleyball court. She glanced back when she arrived, caught me looking and gifted me a shy wave.

I smiled and nodded. I didn't wave. I fished another brew from the cooler, snatched up the empty I'd abandoned earlier and tossed it in one of the recycle bins someone had proactively hauled down to the beach. Oregon had a bottle rebate and there was probably fifty bucks in there already.

Roman snagged the beer in my hand.

"Get your own, asshole." Despite my words, I rooted in the cooler for a second longneck.

Roman was a finger shorter than I and equally ripped. He was the best defensive-man on our team. He talked a lot of smack on the ice. Off the ice he was pretty chill. "You goin' to tap that?" Clara, Roman's flavor of the month, rolled her eyes. I glanced at Michelle who'd just done a layup for another meteorite spike.

"Yeah, probably."

"Do you guys have to be so... gross." Roman handed her one of the raspberry ales she liked. "She's a person, not a blowup doll."

"It'll be her choice." I liked Michelle. "Won't take anything she doesn't freely give." That was true. I didn't ask for sex. I made sure a woman knew I desired her and she offered. If she didn't offer, I didn't press. I wanted her to want me as much as I wanted her. Otherwise it was a no go. Clara knew that.

"You know you can go out on more than three dates with someone." Clara poked me in the chest. "Give her a chance. You might like her."

"I won't," I said, meaning dating. I already liked Michelle, right now, but hockey came first. I'd make sure she knew the score, but the first hint that she was going to try and take over my life, I'd dump her. Every woman always did. My Mom had ruined my Dad with her narcissistic demands. I had this girl back in high school that cost me my best friend. Never again. "Besides, I don't have the time."

I was telling the truth. I didn't have time. It'd taken a decade but Coach Wilson had lifted Cascade Pines' hockey program out of obscurity. For years Cascade Pines University's athletic programs had focused on cross country, alpine and freestyle skiing. It wasn't like the school sank tons of money into football because there was zero chance of making headway against teams like UCLA, the Ducks or the Huskies. But at Coach's insistence, the school was pumping more and more money into hockey. Last year we'd clawed all the way to the championship elimination. If, no... when we won the Frozen Four we'd be the first West Coast team to ever grab the crown. Last year one of our freshman D-men was taken in the draft. Rumor was our goalie, Casey O'Brey, had recently been approached by the Maple Leafs. Not the best team, but fuck, he would be playing professional hockey. I'd give anything to do that. So after school started my life would be practice and classes. It was already practice, every day. Even when I was on the river I'd run wind sprints every morning until I puked. Rowing a raft, battling the river, with a thousand pounds of gear was better than any rowing machine.

Clara gave me a sad look. She and I had chain dated, for two months, nearly a year and a half before she'd hooked up with Roman. She'd started trying to weasel under my skin for more than I'd agreed to give so I cut us off. For Roman's sake we'd made friendly again but I didn't see them lasting long. Clara was just another woman who was convinced her "truth" was the only "truth" that mattered. And I'm using the word, "truth," loosely.

I took a swallow of my beer trying to wash down the sour taste of our exchange. Looking for a distraction, I glanced to where the eye-candy had been sunbathing earlier. She and her friends had picked up. Music swelled down the beach. A sorority had set up a makeshift DJ booth and at least a hundred women had drifted towards it.

Leaving Roman at Clara's mercy, I strolled over and joined the dudes scoping out the girls writhing to the beat. Every now and then some guy would work up his nerve, join the throng and get swallowed by the hundred or so bikini clad women rubbing up against him. It'd not be a bad way to go.

Even so, I waved off a girl's beacons and scanned the crowd. There were a lot of good looking chicks, but I was still curious about the sunbathing hottie I'd seen earlier. A tall, tan, curvy, dark haired beauty in a black bikini wouldn't be that hard to spot, would she?

One. No.

Two. Nope.

Three. My long neck froze halfway to my mouth. Sensual did not begin to describe this woman. The chick danced like the music was playing just for her. She was so hot she made Scarlet Jo plain Jane. And I knew her.

Her name was McKenzie Rivers. No joke. I suppose it was inevitable with eight kids and a last name like Rivers that parents would end up naming a child after a river. But the headwaters for the McKenzie River were just on the other side of the mountains. Growing up in Bend, with McKenzie as my BFF, I had heard it a million times. So had Kenzie, obviously. Unfortunately, in the asshole move of the century, I had made mulch of her heart when we were freshmen in high school. A few months later her family had moved, taking my best friend, and all chances to apologize, away from me.

"Kenzie?" I croaked.

McKenzie's awareness snapped back from whatever magical place it was she went when she danced. I expected her to show me the nail polish on her middle finger. Hug me. Laugh hysterically. Kiss me. Flee.

I did not expect her fist in my face.

Hope

McKenzie

Ow. Ow! OW!

I shook my hand trying to shake the pain out of my fingers. Hitting Collin's jaw had been like using a basalt block for a boxing bag. I should've kneed him in the nuts, he deserved it, but I hadn't actually meant to lash out. He'd caught me unaware and I'd pummeled my pillow imagining his face so many times it just kind of happened.

I'd been lost in the dance. It was the only place I could go where I didn't have to worry about stuff like grades, tuition and the things I did to pay for it. Most of the time when I danced, I had to be conscious of the men perving on me, but right now, amongst all these girls, I felt... safe. It'd been a false sense of security.

When he'd said my name, when my eyes snapped open at his familiar voice, he had just been standing there, all innocent like. He looked surprised to see me. Surprised!

I am a girl. I am all over social media. For six years I prayed he'd contact me--try to fix things. When I came back to the east side of the mountains in order to attend Cascade Pines University, I'd been so sure he'd find me. I went to all his home games. I hung out at the Sin Bin, the jock bar in Pining. I attended all the hockey god parties. Yet, until now, he never once approached me.

I know I could've gone to him, but he did this. He was the one that told me he never wanted me to speak to him again. I'd been respecting him by letting him make the first move, right? I thought he'd been hypnotized by Ashley Hickman's pom-poms, gold hair and boobs. I was so sure he'd eventually come to his senses. I could've, I would've, forgiven him. I don't think I could've done anything different. I had loved him so, so much.

But now, only a little over an hour from where we'd grown up as neighbors, he'd not once deigned to notice me for the past two years. It was like having my heart stomped on all over again, day after day, except, this time, it'd hurt worse. I didn't want to hate Collin, but, frigging a, I did. Depressed, and always on the verge of tears, I'd had to let him go. I'm ashamed to say--because he has been nothing but good to me--that was probably why I had started dating Luke.

Collin stepped back. He dropped his gaze and rubbed his jaw. The moment his eyes left mine, I bolted. It shouldn't be that hard for my bikini to blend in with all the other half dressed girls.

"Kenzie!"

I tried to move faster.

"Kenzie, wait!"

It was a surreal thing, mob mentality. I felt the dance shift around me. Girls parted before me and closed ranks behind me. Something warm and fuzzy blossomed in my chest as gratitude seeped through me. I probably knew less than one in twenty of these women but every last one of my college sisters had my back. By the time I reached the edge of the impromptu dance floor I was moving at a sprint. Even the looky-loo man-boys ringing us girls parted for me.

"McKenzie, wait!" It wasn't Collin calling. It was Ashley.

Life is funny--and heartbreaking. My BFF, Collin, had dumped me flat on my ass when he'd started dating Ashley because she'd been jealous. Now my BFF was my worst enemy and my worst enemy was my BFF. We'd done rush together. We'd pledged together. We were sisters. We'd cried on each other's shoulders when the older sisters had almost defeated us. Drenched in tears, she'd apologized. Collin hadn't. I wouldn't trade Ashley for the world, not even to go back in time and fix shit. Still, I couldn't stop. I was not prepared to face the asshat that had been like the Earth to my Moon from age four to fourteen.

I skid to a stop by the dragon's hoard of beach gear that my sorority sisters and I had ditched. I fished my bikini cover-up out of the pile, grabbed my bag and hopped as I slipped a mismatched pair of flip flops on. I didn't care whose they were. My sisters and I would sort it out at the house. Or not. It wasn't like eighty percent of them weren't size eight and pink.

Ashley trotted up to me. "Kenzie, what's wrong?" Worry tinged her tone.

I said one word. "Collin."

Ashley stared at me. I wanted to talk more. And I would, just not here. I needed to be gone before he found me. My heart already felt like it had been wrung out like a sponge. Running in flip flops never worked out well so I walked as fast as I could across the bike path that circled the lake, glanced to make sure there was no traffic and sped out into the street.

Ashley grabbed her stuff, slid on two more random flip flops and raced up beside me.

"Should I call Luke?"

We reached the other side of what had once been part of the Looking Glass Highway. It ran from Mt. Bachelor to the McKenzie Highway. The school had funded a bypass and it was now Greek Row, well, Greek Row combined with every other form of student housing imaginable. We skipped up on the sidewalk and I sighed.

"No. He's not in town yet."

Although Luke's parents weren't friends with my parents the way my dad and Collin's single father had been, in a weird way, Luke was another friend of the family. His older brother, Brian, was engaged to my oldest sister, Salene. Although we'd attended Siuslaw High together, I hadn't hung with him as a teen. We'd started dating last winter. In the beginning Luke had sat beside me while I bawled my eyes out over Collin not noticing me. He'd told me it had been no big deal. He'd said he had just been trying to get into my panties. I didn't believe him, because Luke was a poli-sci major with big plans. His mother was on the Oregon Legislative Committee. He couldn't afford to be the type that dropped a girl's panties without thinking about how it might impact his future. And yes, after we started dating, I let him into my panties on the regular. He'd been my first since, well, nevermind. He didn't do it for me but he was kind and attentive. I didn't mind giving. I didn't want to go all Collin-crybaby-tears on him again. I love him. I didn't want to make him feel insecure.

"McKenzie!"

Shit. We were almost to the house. I picked up my pace. Ashley turned to face the enemy. Despite having history with Collin, Ashley had my back. Ohmigod, I love my girl. I almost stopped because I was curious to see how he reacted when he realized who it was that guarded my heart. Unfortunately, I didn't dare. I couldn't trust myself. I might, like, punch him again.

"She doesn't want to talk to you, Collin." Ashley's mezzo-soprano crested on her highest note.

"Ashley?" I could hear the stunned tone in Collin's voice. I was almost to the porch and I wondered if he'd notice me peeking out the window after I locked myself in the house.

"Go away, Collin."

"Fuck you, Ash." His voice was low, deadly and dripped poison.

What! No! No one talks to my girl that way! I dropped my wished-it-were-Louis Vuitton bag and pirouette in a one-eighty.

Collin had stepped around Ashley and was cutting across the yard towards me. Ashley was chasing after him. I marched up to him and--

Crack!

Ow. Ow. Frigging a, OW! Hot sting erupted in my palm and all my fingers.

"Dammit, Kenzie, would you stop hitting me?" He scrubbed his fingers against his cheekbone and this time I could see a red print on his sun kissed skin and, yes, it looked a bit like my hand.

"Why? Does it hurt?"

"Yes," he growled. "Happy?"

Ashley was a step behind Collin and rapidly typing on her phone. I was pretty sure she was sending out a sorority wide SOS.

"Oh, poor baby. Hockey god got hurt?" I steeled my will, because, ohmigod, my hand hurt. My fingers throbbed, not just with slap-sting, but with the bone bruising my fingers suffered from his stone jaw earlier. I was not going to let him see that I had hurt myself too.

"Kenzie, I just want to talk." He held up his hands as if to show me he held no weapons. It didn't reassure me. Collin was a weapon--and not just because he had the power to run my heart through a shredder. I would never believe in a billion years that Collin would actually hit me, like I'd done to him, I'm ashamed to say, but he was ripped with enough muscle he could deck Donkey Kong. It wasn't fair, because it was distracting. As soon as I noticed, drool pooled under my tongue and I felt a warm La Croix-fizzle that only Luke, or my vibrator collection, should have been able to inspire. I bit my lip, because dammit!

"There's nothing to say."

He ran a hand through his sandy-brown hair. It'd grown long enough to curl about his ears. I definitely shouldn't have noticed that. "When did you arrive? I mean, at Cascade?"

"Two years ago." I let my anger rule me. It was the only thing keeping the unicorn sparkles dancing across my skin from congregating in my crease. It had not felt like this when we were kids.

"What?" The word came out like a bark. His chiseled jaw momentarily slackened. "How come you haven't said anything?"

"Me? What about you?" My voice was not controlled. Or quiet.

"I didn't know you were here. I'm on the hockey team, first string! You know that! Your hockey god comment tells me you still watch."

"You told me to never speak to you again!" My voice sounded loud, shill and at least two octaves higher than normal. Hikers on top of South Sister might've been able to hear me.

I'm not sure the expression on his face would've looked any more pained had I driven a railroad spike through his chest. His voice came out rumbly--low. "Fuck, Kenzie, sorry. About that--"

I didn't want to hear it. Several of my sorority sisters were racing across the street in our direction. My heart melted a little, because, wow, it was nice having people who love you. Luke loves me. If he'd been in town he would've been with me. I'm not sure how I felt about that. Luke was fit, but Collin was taller and more... musclely. God, now that I had noticed, I couldn't un-notice. Luke would try to do the whole alpha-macho-protecto thing and I wasn't sure Collin wouldn't lay him out. Luke would have zero problems claiming assault and calling the police. I didn't want to see Collin get in trouble. I used to love him.

"Time to go," I said. I reached around Collin and grabbed Ashley's elbow.

"Kenzie..." There was a defeated note in Collin's voice. It made my stomach burble like a witch's cauldron. I ignored the feeling and I showed him the French tip on my middle nail. Lengthening my stride, I dragged Ashley towards our house. We fled inside. I locked the door and peeked out the entry hall window.

Four of our sisters surrounded Collin. Hockey god or not, no one messes with a posse of pissed off sorority girls. Collin shot a frustrated look my way and I dodged back from the window. But I couldn't help it, I peeked again.

He was looking up. For a moment, I couldn't imagine what he was seeing and then, shit, I realized he was memorizing our Greek name. The Phi Alpha Phi above our stoop was just about the only thing that differentiated our house from our neighbor's. Collin was coming back.

Something bright, hot and very, very painful blossomed in my heart. My eyes stung and hot-wet tracked down my cheeks. Why did hope hurt so much?

Shattering Glass

McKenzie

Ding!

Conscious of the cameras, I twisted on the bed. The bell and other sounds were audible prompts that my audience had tipped me. The sounds also spiked the base shimmy of the vibrating egg lodged in my core from something endurable to something more... frenzied. It was a way for my audience to participate in my humiliation.

Ding!

The tight knot of pleasure in my center threatened to detonate. I didn't surrender easily on camera. But when I did, it was messy. As in, I had to wash the linens messy. I'd put down a towel but that wasn't sexy. My regulars knew my body and could spot my fake orgasms. I found it impossible to fake some of the sounds I make. At least seven of my regulars were online this evening, so I needed to give up the real deal.

Ding!

A desperate sound escaped my mouth. I bit my bottom lip. I was on overload.

Ding!

Ding!

Ding!

A noise like crinkling cellophane. A bigger tip. I was on a roll. I was making money. And I--

And I--

And I was going insane. My mouth popped open and I let out this little hiccup squeak. Any person who had ever heard me orgasm, would know I was right there.

Ding!

Shattering glass. A really big tip. I tipped.

I'm not even sure it was the vibrator lodged in me that caused me to orgasm. I was developing a Pavlov response to those sounds. On occasions I would be minding my own business and a bell would set off a Pop-Rock fizzle in my core. I'd hate to know what a shattering window might do to me, but I could not afford to stop. I had to put on a variety of shows, but my income had climbed to an average of eighty-dollars an hour. That was enough to pay my rent, my meal plan and a sizable chunk of my tuition.

Ding!

I writhed. Frigging a! I was too sensitive. I slapped a hand over my crease and ripped the vibrator out. I was gaining endurance, but I'd orgasmed too many times in the last two hours. I had to shut down.

I pushed up on my elbow. I waved to my guys. I had three cams, for different angles, but considered the one by my laptop to be my "audience."

"Bye, thank you, love you!" I said in a high, pitchy voice I reserved for my camera. I blew a kiss. "Got to go. Can't wait to see you again." I toggled a few keys on my laptop and shut down my room.

I flopped back on my bed and put a hand to my forehead. I, McKenzie Rivers, am a cam whore. I mean, I didn't want to be a cam whore. I never planned to be a cam whore. I wanted to be a sports analyst. But to be an analyst, I needed a degree. To get a degree, I needed to go to school. To go to school, I needed money.

I didn't have enough of that.

I checked my tips. The service would take their cut, but I estimated a hundred and eighty bucks. I was getting better. There was a chance I would be able to pay tuition next quarter.

Unfortunately, the service paid out on the last day of the month. Tuition, books and this month's rent had emptied my bank accounts. I had a scholarship, two loans, three maxed credit cards and a hundred-forty-seven dollars and twenty-two cents in my savings account. That had to last me four weeks. I needed to pull twelve-hundred bucks out of my butt for October's rent, which was due in three weeks.

My parents usually helped me out. Not much. But a little. It counted. Maybe they could spot me a month.

My phone rang. I rolled over and pulled it off my nightstand. When I saw who it was, I smiled so wide my ears hurt.

"Hi, Luke." I couldn't keep the joy from my voice. We'd been together since last winter but I hadn't seen my boyfriend all summer. I had been hoping he'd be back before now, but, you know, when you're hanging at a villa on the Mediterranean, you tended to leave things like school until last minute. Although, he couldn't see me, I covered my downstairs with the hand not holding the phone.

His family had invited me to go with them--my sister Salene was marrying his older brother, Brian--but I'd had to stay home, because, you know, I needed to work my job. I couldn't have done that in some villa with a Councilwoman in the house. I couldn't have done that with Luke in the house. I couldn't have done that with my sister in the house. No one but a handful of my sorority sisters and Ashley knew how I paid the rent.

"Hey, babe, you want to go out tonight? Get a little trashed before classes start?"

My chest filled with the kind of teddy bear fuzzies that I never felt on camera. Luke's plane couldn't have landed in Portland more than a few hours ago. He'd probably just arrived in Pining. He had to be jet lagged like nine hours but he was already making plans to be with me. So unlike some asshat who had decided he now had to talk to me for the first time in six fricking years.

I considered. I really wanted to see Luke. "I've got Sports Analytics in the morning. I don't know if Analytics and a hangover go together."

"Babe, it's been all summer. I've gotta see you."

It wasn't like we hadn't talked every day. But those teddy bear fuzzies, they multiplied until my chest felt like it would swell up like a balloon. "We could, you know, talk and stuff, in my room."

His breath hitched. I shimmied on the bed, because I had done that. "When?"

"Twenty minutes? No, I want to shower. Forty minutes."

"Babe, who takes forty minute showers?"

I not only needed a shower, I needed to strip the bed, hide the cameras and stash the bulk of my sex toys. A "perk" of my job was the number of gifts I received from fans that wanted me to try them out. My collection was much bigger than the three tame toys Luke knew about.

"I want to look my best."

He chuckled and it turned my chest into a butterfly cage. "I could help you wash."

Although he couldn't see me, I rolled my eyes. "Maybe later." I might've said, "Yes," if I hadn't been covered in baby oil. I wouldn't orgasm. Luke rarely made me orgasm. That didn't mean I didn't enjoy getting down with him.

"I'll take you out... er... feed you, after--talking and stuff. Gotta keep up your strength, in case, you know, you want to chat more."

Food on someone else's dime sounded good. I'd have to eat at the house until my tips hit my account. My pledge sisters and I took turns cooking. We weren't all the best chefs. I might've been the worst.

"I'd like that."

"Cool, see you soon." He hung up.

I smiled at my phone. I rolled over to drop it on my nightstand when it lit up again.

Alarm was like electrodes jammed into the most primitive part of my brain. I leapt out of bed, slipped on a pair of bikini briefs, wiggled into my jeans and shrugged into a shirt, sans-bra. I know that no one could see me, but I was not chatting with my father wearing nothing but the massage oil one of my fans had gifted me. I wasn't happy about it but the butt plug stayed in because I didn't want to just rip it out. There's a chance that would hurt.

"Hi, Dad!" I forced as much cheer as I could muster. I was out of breath.

"It's your Mother, McKenzie."

Fuck my butt with a softball bat. I dropped on the bed and, yup, the plug rammed me exactly like that. I planted my face in my free hand. "Hello, Mother," I said with considerably less cheer.

"You don't call."

I called my Dad, at his office, every month. More when we could connect. It'd been a few weeks and I had several missed calls from him in the past few days. In fact, I had missed calls from some of my siblings in the last week. That was actually odd. Heather called on the regular. The others didn't. Not that I called on the regular either. We had separate lives. "I know. I've been busy."

"Too busy to call your own mother?"

Like she ever called me? Except now? This was like the first time ever. "Mother, what do you want?"

"Oh you know, your sister got in that wreck--"

"Salene? Heather? April?" Each of my sister's names came out as its own separate shriek. I gave my mother no chance to answer. "Is she okay? When?"

"I don't know. End of last month?"

Ohmigod! Four days ago. Why was I only finding out now? "Who, Mom?" I only called Mother "Mom" when I was upset.

"April."

I had three older brothers, two older sisters, one younger brother and April. April was my youngest sibling and still in high school. Heather and I were closer, but shit! "Is she okay, Mom?" I think I might've been screaming.

"You don't need to yell, McKenzie. She's fine. She was driving the pickup. It's a tank."

Our beater Ford Focus was actually safer. It'd been manufactured this millennium. The seatbelts actually worded. There was zero point telling Mother that.

"Okay," I said, my heart slowing down from a canter. "Why did no one tell me when it happened? Why are you telling me now?"

"Oh, because Toney decided to go to U of O next semester."

I had suspected that would happen. Toney was like eighteen months behind me but had been waffling over school for two years. I didn't know what the two events had to do with each other. "Oookay?"

"Heather got engaged."

I knew that. She sent me a pic of the rock ten seconds after Logan put it on her finger. I'd FaceTimed her and we'd bouncy screamed. "I don't understand what any of this has to do with April or I." I mean, if Mother had been a normal mother, she might've just been sharing news. That was not our relationship.

"Salene is also getting married." Salene was my oldest sister. She was more Mom to me than the woman who had given birth to me. She'd been engaged for a while now. The wedding was in October. I rolled my eyes.

"I know that."

"Your Father and I don't have enough money. I'm cutting you off."

My mouth gaped. My tongue J-B Welded to the roof of my mouth. My heart might've hammered. It might've stopped.

"But... school."

"Honey, we spent all the money we had for you when you got that abortion."

Disbelief stole all rational thought. The words that finally spit from my mouth were born of fear, anger and grief. "It was a miscarriage! And I didn't choose it. It happened!" It'd actually been a partial miscarriage. I'd bled so much. "I almost died!"

"If you hadn't been fooling around--"

"I was an accident! We had a condom. It's just--" It was just that we'd gotten carried away, gotten ahead of ourselves, and one thing led to another and, well, instant pregnancy. "It was an accident! An accident, Mother! I told you I needed birth control, you wouldn't let me!"

"Rivers girls don't need birth control."

That was not true. All three of my sisters and I were on birth control... now. It was why April insisted Dad, not Mother, take her for her visits to the OBGYN.

"This is pointless, McKenzie. You broke God's law. This is your punishment."

I have no idea how that was fair, but, ohmigod, fine! I forced myself to take a deep breath and say what was necessary. "Thank you for telling me. Thank you for what you've already given me." My sinuses burned. It was the danger, danger, danger, tears imminent warning. "Bye."

I slid the receiver left, leapt off the bed and screamed through clenched teeth. I wound up my best softball pitch, but stopped just before I hurled my phone. I could not afford a new phone. Or a broken windowpane. In three weeks, I'd be living on the streets.

If that wasn't bad enough, I'd probably slick my panties when the glass shattered.

Standard Deviation

Collin

I've made a mistake. My advisor suggested I take statistics for my math requirement. She'd suggested that having a deeper understanding of things like standard deviation, variance, level of significance, and margin of error might be useful if I ever had to use my journalism degree. Not something I actually planned on doing. At least not until after I retired from the NHL.

But I took the class, and now, a week in, I think she duped me. I'm questioning my sanity. The only thing this particular pit of hell had going for it was that somehow McKenzie has been stuck in here with me.

The downside of that? She still won't say more than three words to me at a time. Usually those words take the following forms:

"Sit somewhere else."

"Leave me alone."

"Bug someone else."

"Go thefuck away."

At least she wasn't adding a fourth word, "asshole," to the end of those phrases any longer. But that's why I'm not surprised that when I enter the lecture hall, she has taken a seat on the aisle. Ashley Hickman is on her other side. What's up with that anyhow? When I dated Ashley back in high school she was the one that had a problem with my friendship with Kenzie. She was the one that ragged on me. I was the worst friend ever, to my best friend, because my girlfriend was jealous. It doesn't excuse my actions, my words, but McKenzie knew why I was breaking her heart. My fault. I caved. But still. McKenzie can forgive her but not me?

I sidle into the row below McKenzie, climb over an empty seat and drop into the chair beside Ashley. McKenzie sighs--loudly.

"Hey, Kenzie, Ash." We were all kids when everything went down. I don't want to fall for Ashley's shit ever again, but I'm going to have to forgive Ash, to get to Kenzie. I'm getting there. I'm trying.

McKenzie doesn't respond but Ashley rolls her eyes at me. I lift a brow and her lips twitch.

"Hi, Collin."

Hell, yeah! Progress. I'll take that. I watch as my heart lets go of a little ball of resentment towards Ashley. I feel lighter. I like Ash. I've always liked Ash--even when I didn't. I don't want to hate her anymore.

"So, do you understand any of this?" I pry out the folding desk on the side of my chair and drop my text book on it. "Like what the fuck is probability density?"

"It's not that hard, Col." McKenzie's voice drips with derision.

Holy fuck did McKenzie actually speak to me? Even Ashley looks startled.

"Yeah. It is. Because I took calculus in high school, but P(A|B), E(X) and cov (X, Y) are like phew!" I flip a hand over my head in a rapid motion. That's not true. I can do the math. I can't do it fast enough.

It's McKenzie's turn to roll her eyes but she doesn't otherwise respond. I fish my homework assignment out of my backpack. I'd spent hours on it and finished less than half the problems. I never considered myself bad at math, but this was a nightmare.

Professor Silvia Frye enters the room tailed by her TAs. Prof was a tall blonde of some indeterminable middle age. She was pretty in her own way, but dressed more formal than I expected of most professors. Today she was in a white blouse, pencil skirt and casual blazer.

"Welcome to your first pop quiz." She waves at her TAs who move to collect homework and hand out the test.

Several students groan. I'm one of them.

"Oh, don't give me that. This will give me an idea of what you are retaining. I figure that out--" She smiles. It looks gleefully evil. Was she aware that she was rubbing her hands together like that? "--then I can calculate the probability of how many of you'll understand the hard stuff."

Hard stuff? All of it was hard stuff. I mean, I understood average and mean, but anything more complex than that and the math became brutal. I'd never even seen some of the operators before. An upside down U? What was up with that? I wondered if I should drop the class. I don't have many days left.

But McKenzie was in this class. It was the only place I ever saw her. I'd tried to track her down on campus. I'd even found out she wanted to be a sports analyst. But the Sports Health Science Program and The School of Journalism might as well be in two different universes. The entry of her sorority was a revolving door, so sometimes I made it into the foyer, but all the sisters knew I wasn't welcome, so it never took long for me to be ushered out. Even when I made it inside, I rarely saw Kenzie and the one time I had, she'd just shown me the manicure on her middle finger.

And she spoke to me today. Sure, her words had been dripping poison, but I'm not sure I could give up this chance, no matter how slim, to get back in her good graces. Dropping the class was not an option. Failing wasn't either. I'd just have to find some way to get smarter.

I passed my homework to the right. Ashley stacked mine on top of hers and handed it off. I saw McKenzie frown before exchanging our homework for our tests. We placed the quizzes face down, as instructed, until everyone had one.

Upon Professor Frye's word, I flipped my test over and my mind seized. I could do most of the problems. I thought. But there were too many of them. It'd taken me half a day to do my homework--and I hadn't finished. There were almost that many problems here. If I was lucky, I might complete ten of them. I was not getting above thirty percent on this test.

But I had to maintain my grades or I'd be benched. I needed to drop this class or I'd flunk. But, for the first time in a long time, something, someone, besides hockey was important.

What the fuck was I supposed to do?

Transcript

Collin

Bang!

Roman bulldozed me into the boards. I dumped the puck where I knew Silas would pick it up. He circled the net and fired a bullet.

Our goalie, Casey O'Brey batted it away. Lucas picked up the rebound and launched a wrist shot rocket. With the calm of Qui-Gon Jinn, O'Brey reached out with a stick save. I picked up the puck and tried to snap it in.

O'Brey picked it off with his glove. Fuck, our goalie was good. He was like Vader deflecting blaster bolts. If the Maple Leafs really did pick him up after graduation, they still might not make the Cup but nobody would score while O'Brey was in the crease. Maybe they hadn't because he was still here. If he'd signed with anyone, he'd not be able to play NCAA. If an NHL team handed me a contract, I'd sign immediately.

O'Brey threw out the puck. Levi picked it up and we faced off.

Levi never stood a chance. I was first line. He was reserve. But Roman was not. He plowed me into the boards so hard my helmet should've cracked the Plexiglas. I got the pass off to Silas, who lobbed it to Lucas. Lucas bobbled the puck. Peters picked it up and slapped it down court for a Nolan breakaway. Matthews was no O'Brey.

Coach whistled us in, ending the scrimmage. He gave each of us a few pointers and handed out a word or two of praise, where deserved. He sent us to the showers at an hour when most college students were still dreaming.

My boys and I piled off the ice. For most of us, course loading was heavier Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so Coach had decided we needed to get up at some ungodly hour for drills and scrimmage. When the season got under way, when we played late games, things would change. He broke us into smaller teams for weight and endurance training later in the day. We'd all meet in the early evening for strategy and critique. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday morning skate started later but lasted longer. It was a brutal schedule.

Which was okay. I needed this. Coach Wilson had lifted our hockey team out of obscurity. Our rankings were on the rise, but not fast enough for me. I had this year and next to catch the eye of a scout. I'm too old for the NHL draft. They only draft nineteen year olds. I have to get on a team as a free agent. I can sign with an agent after I graduate but it'd be best if I caught the eye of a team while I can still showcase my skills. I held the school record for goals. Last year I was second in the league for assists. At the end of last season I was one of the ten fastest men in collegiate hockey. By the end of this season, I plan to be the fastest. Unfortunately, Cascade Pines is West Coast. We don't draw as many scouts as East Coast schools. Hockey just isn't a thing out here--yet.

Roman climbed over the bench to reach the locker beside mine. "You okay there, Col?"

I cocked a brow. "My head wasn't in the barf bin."

There was a benefit to working my ass off every day, even in the summer. Coach loved his wind sprints. My head was about the only head that hadn't been in the barf bin. Silas might've been the other one. I was the fastest man on the team but even I had been feeling it by the time Wilson had mercy on us.

"Heard some chick laid you out."

Not this again. Two weeks into the quarter and my idiot friends still hadn't let it go. Owen had seen McKenzie clock me. He'd told Silas. Silas had told Potts. Potts had told everyone. The tale grew taller with every telling. Today "some chick" had "laid me out." Tomorrow it would be that some prissy twelve year old girl had handed me my ass.

"Yeah, wasn't she like five-two?" Casey O'Brey yelled from the other side of the room.

"Naw," Owen said, "but she was definitely anorexic. I felt bad for her."

"Fuck you." I crack my towel on Owen's ass. He lets out a satisfying yelp and flips me off as I stalk towards the showers. "Kenzie's a friend, don't dis her."

"Some friend." I'm not sure who said that.

"How's your jaw, Col?" Lucas mocked.

It fucking hurt. I'd had hits on the ice that'd done way more physical damage. Shit, I'd seen stars after that second hit from Roman this very morning. But the pain in my jaw wasn't physical. I mean, the bruise had healed more than a week ago, but I couldn't forget the impact of her hand or the haunted pain in Kenzie's gaze. It still fucking burned that she'd talk to Ash and not to me. I did not want to hate McKenzie. Not ever. Not even for a split second. I hurt her. That doesn't mean I don't regret it. It doesn't mean I don't still care.

Roman claimed the shower stall next to mine. We had some privacy but the construction team must've thought hockey players were short. There were maybe two guys on the team who might not have been able to see over the top of the partitions. O'Brey was one of them.

"Did she mean something to you, Col? You break her heart or something?"

Break her heart? I ripped it out, stomped on it and threw it in the trash. "Or something," I muttered.

"You want to talk?" Roman sounded sincere, but even through the steam I could see his shit eating grin.

"Fuck you. I'm not a girl."

"Just checking." He guffawed. "Thought she might've ripped your nuts off."

"Nope. Still attached." I side eyed him. "Unlike yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Where does Clara keep them?" I couldn't believe they were still together. Like me, Roman didn't do girlfriends but he'd kept Clara on past her expiration date. "In the pantry? On her nightstand?" I slammed the water valve. Someone, maybe Silas, cussed. I toweled off and headed back to my locker.

A mirthful rumbled sounded from Roman's chest. "You know, Col, Clara can keep my nuts. I like balling her."

Two years ago, I had too. I would've kept balling her had we been able to keep things casual. Hockey was my life. I didn't have time for girls that wanted to hang every day of the week or drag me to their sister's wedding. I didn't have time to want more. I definitely didn't have time to be strung along by some chick while she tugged me this way and that. Clara tried to do exactly that.

I wasn't usually like this. I didn't actually have a problem with Clara other than the way she'd gone about trying to get more from me. But ever since the end-of-summer beach party, my every thought led me back to McKenzie. I had a one track mind. That was okay when it was hockey, but no woman, not even the girl who had once been my BFF, should be taking up this much space in my brain. Women were trouble. I knew that. It was making me grumpy. It reminded me too much of how Mom had ruined Dad.

Roman, Lucas and I made plans to grab a second breakfast at a campus diner not far from the athletics center. The place, I swear, had a menu devised by our nutritionist so it wouldn't be too difficult to stay on plan. Owen passed and said he was going back to the condo to crash. I think he partied too hard last night. Because I'm an asshole, I clapped him on the back and told him we'd see him later. When he winced, we all laughed.

"Kimball!" Coach Wilson hadn't actually yelled my name. His indoor voice was just ten decibels louder than everyone else. When he shouted, you knew it. "A word?"

"Sure, Coach."

I waved off the guys saying I'd catch up with them at the diner. Coach stepped back in his office.

He slapped my transcript down on his desk. I swear the slap of his palm was so loud I thought the writing surface had cracked in half. "What's this?"

Fuck me. I hadn't even seen this quarter's grades yet. I knew I hadn't been doing well in Statistics but I hadn't expected a D-minus. Between the B-minus in The Art of Interview and the C in Broadcasting Journalism I was rocking a solid C-minus for the start of term. If I couldn't bring it up to at least a C by the end of midterms, Coach Wilson would have to bench me. I'm not some dumb jock. I knew I could bring the other two grades up, but statistics was defeating me. Friday had been the last day to drop the course.

"If you flunk off this team, Kimball, I'll have you doing hurricane sprints from dawn to dusk. Do you hear me?"

There was no pressure Coach could put on me that I wasn't putting on myself. "Yes"

"What's that, Kimball?"

"Yes, sir!" Coach could've been the drill sergeant in any military movie ever.

"Get yourself a tutor."

A tutor? There weren't any listed on CPUbytes--the university's social forum. I'd checked. But I did know someone. She had dark hair, green eyes and claimed statistics was easy. All I had to do was get her to forgive me.

Pants On Fire

Collin

I was grateful I'd brought a light coat. The sun had fallen while I was in study group and the temperature had plummeted. It was early for snow but if temperatures continued their nose dive, we might see white stuff in the first weeks of October. It would make for a long winter. Between the elevation and the mountains' shadows, there were years that Cascade Pines let out for the summer before the snow melted.

"Hey, Collin, mind if I walk with you?"

I paused, glancing about. It was late but there were still enough students about that I couldn't immediately identify who had spoken.

A woman strode through a circle of lamplight but plunged back into shadow as she stepped up beside me. "You headed back to your condo?

"Hi, Michelle." I turned in the direction of the lake once more. Michelle kept pace. "I assume you're headed back to the athlete's dorm?" It was not far and on my way. It was often easier, and sometimes faster, to walk than drive to and from campus. Parking could be a nightmare. "Need an escort?"

"If you're offering."

I chuckled. Why did chicks do that? Most of the time it was harmless, but she was the one that had asked to walk with me.

"When does the season start? Are the freshmen jelling?"

"All right, I guess. I've not had a lot of ice time with them yet. The new goalie seems decent. Not another Casey O'Brey, but he's young yet. How about you guys?"

Michelle rolled her shoulders. "You met Natalie. I think the rest of us are just there to support her." Natalie had been the blonde in the itsy bitsy, teeny weeny bikini with the killer jump serve.

"Yeah, right. I can't believe that. I seem to remember a hot brunette owning me on the sandlot."

Despite the shadows I didn't miss how Michelle's cheeks colored. "So what brings you out? I'd have thought you'd be chugging beer or something."

You know, it sure seems ladies have a low opinion of us men. I tried not to hold it against her. I had some pretty fucked up thoughts about women. I know that. I'm trying to get over that. Her judgment made my words surly. "Study group."

"Yeah? How'd that go?"

Michelle didn't seem to catch my displeasure. I didn't actually want her to. I forced myself to let it go. "Miserable. I don't think any of us know what we're doing. I'm going to fail. If I don't get my grade up, I'll be benched."

"Oh, no... anything I can help with?"

"You any good at statistics? I can't find a tutor and the chick who is acing the class won't speak to me."

"Yeah, math, no." She turns to me. We've reached her dorm. She walks a few fingers up my chest and plays with my coat collar. "Perhaps I can help in another way? Help distract you from your woes?"

As promised, I'd called Michelle the first Thursday after classes started. We'd hooked up a few times. I'd tried to treat her right but we'd never left her dorm when I'd stopped by the third time we'd "gone out." We'd not gotten together after that. Schedule incompatibility. Michelle had been a good sport. I was glad of that. I can't pretend her offer didn't sound good. I had to trust there were no ulterior motives. When a woman like Michelle says, "let's fuck," a wise man doesn't turn her down. Is it manipulation if it is something you both want?

"Your roommate home?"

"Not for a few hours. She's got rehearsal and tends to stay out after."

I leaned in and kissed her. A light swipe. A promise for more. "I'm game."

Michelle smiled at me, took my hand and let us into the dorm. Her room was on the eighth floor and the elevator is notoriously slow. We got lucky and it slid open the moment we called it. While the elevator is trying to figure out up from down I have plenty of time to crowd Michelle into a corner. By the time we've reached her floor, her tongue is in my mouth, my hand is on her ass and she's got one leg hitched over my hip while she presses her center into my erection. Still pawing each other, we stumble to her room in a clumsy dance set to the music of the giggles and cat calls following in our wake.

While she's digging in her purse for her key, I weld my lips to her neck. It probably takes us a solid five minutes to get into her room. We do this awkward shuffle, so I'm not falling on her, and drop to her bed.

I'm not sure how I'd forgotten that the beds in Michelle's dorm sucked, but they do. There's not enough room to hold a girl. They're worse when it comes time to fuck. We eventually drag her mattress onto the floor because the shelf, aptly named the Chastity Board, was forever in the way, regardless of position. I think I have ten new bruises that I hadn't had after practice this morning.

After a couple of rounds of making Michelle call out my name while her nails rake my scalp and my own mind blowing release in her tight little pussy, I was no smarter but significantly more relaxed. While Michelle dressed--which is an overstatement, because all she put on was an extra-long tee-shirt--I tossed her mattress back on the bed frame.

"We should've gone to your place."

I agreed, but I wasn't going to complain. Once the bed is situated, I sit on the edge in order to tug on my jeans and Rockports.

"So, I've been thinking."

An alarm claxon goes off in my brain. Nothing good ever follows when a woman speaks those words. It wasn't that women weren't as smart as fuck. It was that too often they made fuck look dumb. It always meant they wanted something from you.

"Yeah?" I said cautiously. I didn't want to sound too wary, but shit. I didn't want her tugging at my sense of honor. I didn't want her prodding my wounds. I sure as fuck didn't want to be used. I shrugged into my shirt. I had the feeling I might need to escape in a hurry. Michelle stepped in for a hug and interrupted my flight prep.

"I want to be your girlfriend."

Fuck me with a jackhammer. "Michelle, we talked about this." We had. I didn't mind hanging out. I didn't mind being friends. We could be platonic. We could fuck. Whatever she wanted, but I wasn't doing a relationship or the expectations that came with it. I wasn't going to let a woman have that kind of control over me. But I didn't want to hurt Michelle either.

"I know. I just thought..."

She thought her pussy was magic. It is. That it has some mind altering power. It does. But honestly, if anything was going to change my mind, it was her smile. I did not want to hurt this woman, but I had a goal and a girlfriend didn't factor into that--especially now that I was at risk of being benched for bad grades.

I felt my chest flex within the circle of Michelle's arms. A sigh slipped out. "Michelle, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

Was she playing with me or did she really not know what I was saying? I hate how she makes me doubt my sanity. "Why do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Michelle bumped her forehead against me until I lifted my chin. She proceeded to burrow her face into the crook of my neck. She was warm and soft in all the right places and fuck me if it didn't feel good to hold her. "Because it would be nice."

I bite back a groan. It would be nice. "Michelle, I'd like that--with you. Especially with you. But I have goals--priorities. Goals I'm at risk of failing. I need to focus."

"Okay." The word was surprisingly perky. But when she released me, I could tell it was forced. Her eyes were heartbreakingly moist. I had hurt her and I had not wanted to do that. I needed to stick to dicking puck bunnies. They were the only chicks as heartless as me. Their manipulations extended no further than scoring on another hockey player's cock. A first string hat trick.

"We can be friends?" She was not looking at me.

"For sure." I couldn't look at Michelle either. I hated that I'd hurt her. I hated that I didn't trust her. I hated that I didn't trust myself with her.

"Okay. If you ever change your mind..."

My chest felt like there was cement mixer slurry in my lungs. "You'll be the first to know." I wasn't sure that was true. Light my pants on fire for being a liar but I couldn't hurt her any more than I already had.

Peer Pressure

Collin

My brain is still chewing on Michelle, and the pain I inflicted on her--us--when I walk in the door of the condo I shared with my guys. They were walking out.

"Holy crap, he lives," Roman bellows as he pushes up beside me in the entryway. "Do you not know how to answer your phone?"

Yeah, I know how to answer my phone, but I'm also smart enough to put it on silent when I'm with a girl. I hadn't wanted to talk to anyone after I'd left said girl, so I'd left it silenced. "I had study group."

"Study group was at six. We know, because Coach excused you from strategy."

"Excused me?" He had, but not without homework. "I've got three hours of game reel to review."

"You poor baby," Owen scoffed, "you have to watch hockey."

Yeah, okay, it was pretty rocking homework.

"Well, not tonight. We're going out." Lucas grabbed my shoulders and pushed me out the door.

"We have practice at five a. m." I say in disbelief. It was after ten. I'd spent more than an hour making Michelle come her brains out--before I made her cry. Shit, why couldn't I stop thinking about that? It reminded me way too much of another time I'd made a different girl cry. Note to self: Don't make women cry. It blows. For them. For me.

Ignoring me, the guys hustled me into the back seat of Lucas' Wrangler. Everyone piled in and Lucas pulled out of our driveway.

"Guys, it's a school night. We have practice tomorrow."

"Don't be such a mom."

I didn't catch if that was Lucas or Owen talking but, fuck, whichever, he was right. I think. I didn't really know. My Mom had jumped ship on the whole motherhood thing long ago. But if moms sounded anything like McKenzie's older sister Salene, then, yeah, I sounded like a mom. McKenzie's real mother hadn't jumped ship but she hadn't been motherly. Lucas turned onto the Looking Glass Highway and headed towards Pining.

I gave in and put my head in my hands. If I went to bed I'd just think about Michelle, and then McKenzie, so, what the fuck? A beer, maybe two, might help me get a few hours' sleep. "Where are we going? What's the occasion? It's Tuesday for fuck's sake."

"Remember, Luke?" That was Lucas. He and this Luke guy had had an economics class together last year and had broed out over Reganomics or some shit. "Yeah?"

"Well, his brother is in town."

What did that have to do with anything?

"Brody... Boe... Brian or something."

Okay?

"Dude's getting hitched. Luke wanted to throw him a surprise party."

An alarm went off in my brain. A party for the about-to-be-hitched was a bachelor party. Surprises at bachelor parties meant strippers--usually because the about-to-be-hitched didn't want one.

"I'm not going to a strip club." Not that I had a problem with strippers, or how they chose to make money. But I didn't need to throw money at some naked chick to get her to pay attention to me. I'm not saying I never will. I'm not so arrogant as to say I know who I'll be in ten years. No judgment on the dudes that do, do that, but that's not me, today.

"Live a little." Roman fist bumped my shoulder. "Tonight you are."

"Guys--"

"We're not staying past midnight."

"Let me out of the car."

"When we get there."

"Does Clara know?"

Roman shot me a sour look. Had he and Clara ended it? How had I missed that?

"If you'd get your head out of your ass and look around every now and then, you'd know the answer to that."

Yeah, Roman and Clara were definitely on the rocks and he wasn't happy about it. That was not the Roman I knew. Had he been serious about Clara? God knew she was a catch.

"I've been studying," I said, feeling guilty. "You know, trying to not flunk off the team."

"You could've dropped the class," Owen said. His voice dripped with something unpleasant. The atmosphere in the Wrangler turned glacial. I knew my team had been upset about the whole grades thing but I hadn't realized it was this bad. We all wanted to win a Frozen Four. We had a really good team this year. It wasn't all riding on me.

Except, I was the fastest skater. I was the top scorer. I lead the team in assists. I... I didn't know what to say.

"We get it," Roman said. "You're hung up on that KZ chick. But why didn't you drop that shitty class? There's other ways to hook a girl."

"And why are you balling the volleyball girl?" Lucas added. "That's why you were late tonight, wasn't it? Are you using her to take the edge off or something?"

I hung my head. Had I been using Michelle? Was she a stepping stone? I cycled a heavy breath. No, no I had not. Not intentionally, not consciously at least. I liked Michelle. She was beyond awesome. But she wasn't for me. I wasn't for her. Not right now at least. Not when my NHL dreams hinged on a grade I might not get. "The volleyball girl has a name. It's Michelle."

"Yeah?"

"We broke it off tonight. Kenzie has nothing to do with it." She hadn't. Of that I was one hundred percent certain. I hoped. Fuck. Now I wasn't sure. The guys had put doubts in my head. Damn it! I'm not a bitch. I don't use people. I don't manipulate.

Lucas pulled into the lot at Sisters Exposed and parked. Roman, in the back seat with me, reached across me and pushed open my door. "Then you need this more than we do."

I could've refused to go. I could've walked away. I could have called an Uber, a Lift. Was this what peer pressure felt like? Was that really an excuse?

Clubbing

McKenzie

I peeked out from behind the curtain at the girl dancing beside the pole and my stomach heaved. A nauseating, burbling witch's brew threatened to climb my esophagus. But I hadn't eaten anything since lunch yesterday and there was nothing to hurl. I let the curtain fall back into place.

The theme at Sisters Exposed was ski bums and snow bunnies so I was wearing a glow in the dark ski jacket... and little else. My cage panties covered next to nothing. My bra, if it could be called that, covered even less. In another one-hundred and twenty-eight seconds I was expected to leave the safety of the curtain behind, strut out there in--in--in this getup and twirl about a brass pole. My ski jacket was to come off in the first thirty seconds. I wasn't even wearing pasties, because Oregon didn't require them. The manager had told me that to get the tips I needed I was going to have to do without--especially on a weeknight. There weren't a lot of guys out there and I was starting to panic. My girls, my sorority sisters, had started a Save McKenzie crowdfund, but so far, I was still a few hundred short--and, I was going to have to pay them back, because doing otherwise was not right. Some of them were almost as broke as I.

My stomach heaved again. This time I moved to a conveniently placed trash bin. I almost tripped, because, six inch heels. At five eleven, I was not a heels girl. Six inches was too much and it was like learning to walk all over again. Yet, somehow, I was going to dance. Fortunately, I still didn't have any lunch to lose.

I shouldn't have had nerves, right? I orgasmed on camera. In front of hundreds. This should've been easy. Orgasms were way more vulnerable than dancing, weren't they? On camera I didn't know who was watching. On camera I didn't know who was jacking my vibrator. I had nightmares where my Dad had been watching. He was always... disappointed. I woke from those dreams in tears. Here I could see every guy, sorta. The lights made it hard, but I knew my Dad was not out there.

But that was the problem too. I didn't recognize the older gentleman in back. He was wearing tweed. Was he a professor? There were three dudes at a table up front. They were cute enough, but they looked like they'd spent a month in the Outback. Pining was the Gateway to the Three Sisters National Wilderness Area after all.

I didn't mind dirt. I didn't mind dirt on me, but, cute or not, those were lap dances I was going to pass on unless I had no other options. The rest of the customers, the few there were, might've been students. Would I recognize any? Would they recognize me? Were guys going to sleaze on me at school because doing this somehow made me "fair game?" Would I be slut shamed? Did I deserve that? No one deserved that, but was it accurate? Was I a slut? I was a cam girl. In just a minute or two I'd be a stripper. I felt like something irreplaceable was being chipped away in my soul.

Was it possible to ralph everything I'd eaten for the past year?

The song ended. The girl at the pole dismounted the stage. There weren't a lot of dancers tonight, just she and I. There weren't a lot of customers. She'd made maybe ten bucks. It'd just been one song, but still. I needed the tips because my first, and preferably only, pay day was too far away.

I was going to quit the moment I had the money I needed. I think the manager knew that. He'd started me on a slow night. I think he was trying to get me used to it, to bring me back enough times I'd become comfortable, change my mind.

I didn't need slow. I certainly didn't want slow. I needed to jump in with both feet and climb back out of the sleaze pool as fast as possible. I was hoping the sleaze wouldn't soak in, stick, if I minimized my exposure. But on a night as dead as tonight, I might be preparing to bare myself for nothing. That made my stomach queasy for a whole 'nother reason. I steeled my will and narrowed my focus. I loved to dance. I'd taken gymnastics. I'd taken dancing lessons--of the kind designed to drive men wild--as part of my other "job." I could do this.

I shook the jitters out of my fingers and strutted, I hope I strutted, out from behind the curtain. I did a little back and forth sashay with my hips, forced a smile and played with the zipper on my coat. Momentary tease, complete, I gripped the pole, leaned back and descended into the dance.

***

"McKenzie?" The shocked sound blasted my dance "zone" to smithereens. I'm not sure how long I'd been dancing, but my hands chaffed, my arms ached, there was maybe fifty dollars on the stage. Besides my pumps, I might've still had two stitches of clothing on. It was a garter belt. Obviously, that covered nothing.

I lost my grip on the pole. The back of my head, shoulder and hip kissed the stage with bone bruising force. The leg wrapped around the pole was almost ripped off at the knee.

Ow.

"McKenzie! What the fuck are you doing here?" My gaze panned the room, trying to pinpoint Luke's location, but, fuck me in the butt, I could ask the same question of him. What the hell was he doing here?

Unfortunately, it wasn't hard to find Luke. He was halfway to the stage and the toppled chair he'd just vacated had yet to hit the floor. There was a wild, blazing expression on his face, one I'd never seen before. It made me cringe inside. In my periphery, I saw more motion, maybe the bouncer, but it wasn't that, it wasn't even Luke, that held my gaze. There was another man at Luke's table. His brother. Brian. My sister's fiancé. He looked shocked. Then sick. Then panicked. And then resigned. Cool if Salene knew about this, but Brian did not look like a man who'd gotten his fiancée's blessing.

"McKenzie Rivers, get off that stage right now!" Still some strides distant, Luke's spittle struck my face. "And for God's sake, cover yourself!"

I didn't get the chance to respond. I didn't get the chance to cover myself. Luke grabbed me and ripped me off the stage. I fell into him, because it was that or the floor. I desperately tried to get my feet under me. One of my heels, a gift from a viewer of my cam show, snapped and my hip slammed into the edge of the stage. Frigging a, that hurt!

I shoved away from Luke and staggered as I tried to balance on my toes. My chest pressured up and it was all I could do not to shriek. "Lukewhatareyou--"

A fist collided with Luke's jaw. It was not mine. It was not the bouncer's.

Oh! My! God! I wanted to cover my eyes. Deny what I'd just seen. Who I'd just seen. Collin. Collin was here. I wanted to die. Could my life get any more mortifying?

Maybe if Dad showed up?

Shotgun

McKenzie

The customers had fled. The fluorescents were on. The stage lights were off. The club looked entirely different. Goodbye glitz. Hello shabby. My coat was back on but my bottom was still bare. I mean, really? Couldn't the cops let me go back stage to put something on before they took our statements? They were being professional enough, but I could see that they were affected. So let me put on some clothes! I am the victim here.

At least I thought I was the victim.

Luke wanted Collin arrested. Collin claimed he was defending me. Luke would've gotten his way, except Ron, the bouncer, said Luke had assaulted me. I didn't want to file a report, because I didn't want my family seeing it. And they would. It might even ruin my sister's happily ever after. I couldn't do that. Marcus, the manager, and Stacie, the other stripper, were pissed at the loss of business. I don't think I'll be getting another shift, at least not until after my rent was due. Someone shove a Donkey Kong vibrator up my ass and turn it on high, because I don't think I could be any more fucked.

"Miss Rivers..." I yanked my mind back to the here and now.

"Miss Rivers, we're almost through. Stay with us a little bit longer." Even barefoot--I'd removed my pumps--because, you know, broken heel--I was a hair taller than the buzz cut cop. But body armor, billy club, Taser, gun and dick--yes, sad to say, but dick entered the equation--gave him an air of authority that I couldn't ignore. Friggin' a, how was it that possessing a dick gave a person authority? Why did possessing lady parts put us ladies a step behind? Well, us ladies that were actually ladies, because, at the moment, I think I was firmly classified otherwise.

"Did Mr. Stromberg assault you?" The cop winced. We'd all heard Councilwoman Stromberg's name invoked a couple hundred times tonight.

"I don't know. I mean, he did drag me--"

"She's my girlfriend!" Luke roared. "She was flashing her tits at the crowd."

Crowd, really? There'd maybe been ten people in here. He and his brother had made up twenty percent of them. Collin and his hockey friends had made up another forty percent.

"I was trying to make her cover up. She was embarrassing me!"

I--what! Everyone looked at me startled. Had I said that out loud? Had it shrieked like it shrieked in my head? I think I had, because I didn't stop. "I was doing my job! Councilwoman Stromberg doesn't pay my tuition! My rent is due in like two days and because of you, I can't afford it now!"

"You should have told me!"

"So like what? You could pay my way and I'd owe you? A Stromberg. Are you fricking kidding? I've watched the news. I know who benefits every time a business goes bankrupt in Florence!" Florence, Oregon was the coastal community my family had moved to when I was in high school. It's where we'd met the Strombergs. They had a mansion on Heceta Beach. We had a shack just off of the wrong side of Highway 101. "So what if I was flashing my tits at the crowd? They're my tits!"

"God, listen to yourself! You're no better than a cam whore!"

They should make boxing gloves out of shame, because the way those words hit me, they left me reeling. I jerked my gaze away from Luke, and then Collin, and then a cop, and then Marcus the manager, and then the other cop until it had nowhere to go but the floor. My knees quaked. My focus narrowed. Heat blistered all my cheeks, and everything in between, face to butt. I'm pretty sure my body language was broadcasting, "Yup, guessed it in one, I'm a cam whore." I had the horrific image of all these men looking me up online later tonight. This weird humiliated sound exited my mouth. If they hadn't known I was a cam whore before, I'm sure they knew now. Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. I started to fold.

Arms caught me. Big, solid, musclely arms. I fisted the North Face jacket hiding the chest attached to those arms and buried my face in it. I don't know why, but I felt safe there. Those arms scooped me up like I weighed nothing. I kept my face hidden in his chest. We began moving.

"Mr. Kimball we are not through here." I think it was the younger cop that said that--the one that had tried to interrogate me. I knew that Mr. Kimball meant Collin. Collin Phinley Kimball. That was his name. But I was too distressed to care that the man who held me was my mortal enemy. All that I cared about was that I felt sheltered in his arms.

"I'm not going anywhere. But someone needs to give Kenzie the privacy and dignity she deserves. Since no one else will, that falls to me." I heard heat in Collin's words--rough, rumbly, angry heat. Something in my heart cracked and it hurt so freaking bad my throat constricted. There was a burn behind my eyes. I hadn't been crying but I was in danger of starting now. "As soon as we find her clothes, and a private place to change, I'll be right back out."

The younger officer objected. It wasn't procedure. The other told him to let it go.

The lighting dimmed and I knew we'd moved backstage. Not trusting my voice, I squirmed until he set me down. He steadied me and then put a finger under my chin but I glanced away, because, yeah, those hot tracks running down my cheeks were tears.

"You okay?"

No.

"Yes," I said, barely audible. My voice sounded wet even in my own ears. Collin tried to lift my chin once more but I jerked away from him. I tugged my jacket down in a vain hope of covering my butt and strode towards the locker room.

"Kenzie..." His voice sounded pained and my heart splintered a little more. Six years, six fricking years, without a word and now this. I wanted to throw myself in his arms and cling to him like the little girl I'd once been. But I wasn't a little girl anymore and he was not my Prince Charming. He'd proven I was nothing to him. A sob welled up and it was all I could do to choke it back down.

"Kenzie," he said, following me into the locker room. "Why are you here?"

I fiddled for a moment with the lock on my locker and then popped it open. Part of me wanted to tell him, but my boyfriend--ex-boyfriend--had just reamed me good. Little bubbles of fury began to fizzle in my blood. I yanked my backpack out of the locker and fished clothes--jeans, briefs, bra, sweater, sneakers and socks--from within. I threw each on the bench, grabbed the zipper of my jacket and ripped it down. "Stripping!" I snapped.

"Fuck--" Collin jerked away from me and turned his back. "--Kenzie."

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I wanted him to get an eyeful--and despair. I didn't care how he made my heart throb. I didn't care how safe I felt in his arms. I didn't care that I had dreamed of him between my legs every day since the start of the quarter. I wanted him to see what he was missing and could never have.

Another part of me was grateful he'd looked away.

"McKenzie--" Collin was frustrated. I could tell. He'd used my proper name. "--I know you are stripping--and no judgment--shit, I came here to watch. But you're not happy about it. So..."

I dressed, with his back, like a brick wall, facing me. "You heard me. I need the money." My voice, and mood, had become a little more subdued. I scrubbed away my makeup with an off-brand wipe and shoved my kit, my purse and my dancing outfit back in the pack. "School's not cheap." I slipped my jacket back on and shoved past Collin.

"Did you--"

I shot him a heated glance, but kept walking. More like stomping. "Do you not think I tried everything, Collin?"

"Fuck. Sorry." He glanced away from me and ran a hand through his not quite blond, not quite brown hair. I ran into the doorframe, because, well, I had been focused on him, his arm and the way his pecs flexed under that North Face jacket. When I bounced back into said pecs, I hastily scrubbed the point of impact in an attempt to hide the fact I was really wiping away my drool. His arms wrapped around me as he caught me.

"Ow."

"Are you okay?" There was an alarmed note in Collin's voice.

I made no move to break from his arms. I wanted to stand there a moment longer. "Nothing broken but my pride."

My back, to his chest, his chuckle vibrated some very sensitive spots--spots that were already reacting to the nearness of his presence. Okay, that was enough. I pushed free of his embrace.

We returned to the interrogation. And, yeah, not fun. I did end up filing a report--just so Collin wouldn't end up charged--and prayed to every god, present and past--including Sin himself--that Dad and Mother never see it. I'm not afraid of my dad. I'm afraid of disappointing him. I'm terrified of how my mother might shame me. I've never figured out why she hates me. But while I despise Collin's guts, it would kill me to see him hurt. I don't understand myself sometimes.

By the time we were through, it was midnight. My fifty-fifty take on tips was twenty-five bucks. I'd walked to the club. It'd taken forty-five minutes. I'm pretty sure if I Ubered home, tonight would be a net loss.

I cycled a heavy breath. Looking Glass Lake was blacker than the night sky, but the bike path that ran along it between town and school was paved and easy to walk. I can't say I wasn't a little creeped, but I was a big girl, with few good options.

"Where are you going?"

I glance back at Collin. He'd stopped in his tracks but had clearly been headed to join his buddies. They were leaning up against an ultra-modern, high price tag, Jeep Wrangler. The ultimate man-boy car.

"Home," I said and continued my trek across the lot.

"Where's your car?" His voice was sharp and I could almost feel him moving towards me. It was like his aura was bumping against mine or something. I picked up my pace.

"I don't have a car."

"We'll wait with you until your ride arrives." His voice was closer.

"I don't have a ride."

"Uber?"

"No money, remember?"

"Sorority sister?"

"They don't know I'm here. I'm keeping it that way."

"Kenzie, you can't walk." He was closing fast. I could hear his feet slapping the pavement as he jogged towards me.

I glanced over my shoulder and spit my words at him. "I have two legs, don't I?"

"Kenzie!"

Okay, he didn't say it. Kudos on him. But he was thinking it. So was I. And, truth be told, I was more than a little creeped. Cascade Pines University spent a lot of money on student safety. But I was not on campus and there were a lot of places for a predator to hide. My head swiveled forward right as I head butted one of his buddy's chests. I had zero idea how he got there or where he came from. I mean, had he sprinted all the way from their car? How had I not noticed?

"Careful there." He instinctively grabbed my shoulders, but the moment I was stable, he released me. Like Collin, he was big and strong and musclely. He might've been a whisker shorter. In this light his wavy hair was dark. The shadow on his jaw looked like third day scruff. His face was chiseled. Objectively hot. But my lady parts just didn't notice. Collin jogged up beside us, his breathing not even affected by the workout, and my nipples scratched at the padding of my bra. It was barely even cold out!

And the flush in my skin, the dew-point in my panties, suggested I wasn't cold--at all. How was I supposed to hate the man when my body betrayed me every time I glanced his way? I mean, that class we had together, statistics, had become a thrice a week lessen in erotic torture. I'd started going to my online room after that class, because, why not? Then I spent the entire session wishing I was with him. Ugh. I hated him. How come he had to grow up to be so hot! The boys that break your fragile little teenage heart are supposed to grow up and look like Bevis or Butthead. That should be law!

"You're not walking, KZ. Call a friend and we'll wait. Or ride with us. Btw, I'm Roman."

I was confused for a heartbeat. I heard the words, but Collin's lips hadn't moved. Oh, wait. The other dude was here. Collin's friend. The objectively hot one. The one that had never broken my heart. Why couldn't I be salivating for him?

"The police are right there. Are you really telling me I can't make my own decisions?"

"If you walk, Kenzie, we're walking with you," Collin growled.

Ugh. My heart just did a happy dance. Why did a forty-five minute moonlit walk with this big, pushy, musclely man make me want to melt? He traded me in for Ashley's boobs. I mean, Ash has great boobs, but, really?

"Fine," I snarled. Then inspiration struck. "Shotgun!"

Drive Faster

Collin

Roman ribbed me with his elbow. "Move your fat ass over, Cap, I can't shut the door."

I tried to wiggle an inch. Owen shoved me. "Get the fuck off my lap." Wedging his shoulder into mine, Roman slammed the door closed. Fortunately, Owen was shorter than the two of us so instead of my shoulder snapping in half, I just ended up leaning, like that tower in Pisa. Owen shoved me, but there was nowhere to go. Up front McKenzie bit her lip and quaked.

Yeah, 'k, Kenzie. You win this round. Not that I actually want her back here with these two fuckups, not that they'd get handsy, but, yeah. I was glad she wasn't back here sitting in one of their laps. Maybe if she was sitting back here on my lap.

Shit, I didn't need a boner right now. There wasn't enough room back here for all of us and my wood.

The car consul was dinging.

"Put on your seat belts!" Lucas demanded.

"I can't find my seatbelt." I wasn't sure if the car didn't have a middle seat belt or if it'd just fallen behind the seat.

"Cap's sitting on mine." Roman tried to dig his hand under my thigh but it wasn't like there was anywhere for me to go.

McKenzie was shaking so hard there were fucking tears in her eyes.

"Just go," I growled. "Don't get pulled over."

"There are cops in the parking lot!"

"Well, don't shout it so loud and maybe they won't notice."

Lucas put the car in gear, and, despite the backup camera, twisted in his seat to pull out of our parking space. "If we get pulled over, you're paying the ticket."

"Fine." The ticket wouldn't be nearly as bad as the hit to his insurance.

The consul continued to ding--as the car left the parking lot, it got louder, more insistent.

"Ohmigod, someone unplug that thing," McKenzie said. No longer laughing, she looked a little flushed. I had to agree, that noise was damned annoying.

"Can't. Pull the fuse and like half the car turns off," Lucas groused. "I know. I've tried."

We cruised down Lakeshore, took a right on Main and headed for the highway. Pining wasn't big. Cascade Pine's University had a bigger population.

"So, hey, KZ--" That was Roman speaking. "--you trying to kill Cap or something?"

McKenzie twisted in her seat to look at Roman, not me. Fuck she was beautiful. When had that happened? I mean, I knew about the jade eyes and the chocolate hair, but now, the rest of her, wow. I'd now seen her in nothing but a garter belt and stilettos. I was never getting that image out of mind. "What're you talking about?"

"Cap here--" Roman hooked a thumb at me. I was the team captain. "When we walked in, I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. Then when that asshole dragged you off the stage I think he just about had a heart attack."

"Hey! That asshole is my friend," Lucas snapped.

"Not. Any. More."

There was this pounding in my blood. This haze behind my eyes. If Lucas thought he was going to live in our house, play on our team, and keep hanging with that asshole he had another thing coming. When I'd first put a fist in that fucker's jaw I'd been prepared to drag him out into the pine-barrens, beat him within an inch of his life and leave him for the wolves or something.

McKenzie's eyes flicked to me, then hastily diverted, but the pressure behind my sternum eased. Even her brief interest had been like aloe on sunburn. She slipped in her seat to face forward once more.

"He's also my boyfriend."

Damn it.

"You should dump his ass."

Thank you, Roman. I owe you.

"He's also kinda sorta my brother-in-law."

"Say, what?"

"Man, keep it down, dude," Owen said. He shoved a finger in his ear and leaned away from me. "You taking voice lessons from Coach or what?" In the front seat, McKenzie gnawed her lip but didn't otherwise respond.

"Kenzie," I growled.

Silence--other than the dinging from the dashboard--answered me.

"Brother-in-law," Lucas prompted.

"His brother is marrying my sister in October."

"October? Like next month?"

"Uh-huh."

Thank God someone else was interested because this silent treatment shit was eating me alive. "Salene? Heather? Not April," I asked.

"No, not April, dumbass."

I elbowed Roman, who got the hint.

"Then who? Salene's a pretty name, but I like Heather too."

"Salene, assuming she doesn't rip Brian's balls off after I tell her this." She palmed her face with both hands. "God, I have to tell her."

"Why would that be a problem?" Owen asked. Thank God a pretty woman could hold the attention of like a hundred men because I needed these answers more than air itself.

"Because she doesn't know how I pay the bills. Or that I'm out of money. Or that I was going to be a stripper--that I am a stripper, because I did strip--and, oh God, I only made twenty five bucks. What am I going to do?"

"I can spot you," Lucas said. He could. No matter how much she needed. His family were like gazillionaires--not really, but sometimes it seemed that way. "How much do you need?"

Hope blossomed in McKenzie's face--and then blinked out. "I couldn't"

"Why not? I'm sure you're good for it." He honestly sounded perplexed but that's probably because he'd never had to work for his money. Handouts felt different when you never had to work for your money.

McKenzie bit her lip and my breath caught, because, fuck, I wanted to bite her lip. My BFF was now the hottest woman to have ever walked this planet and she wouldn't even talk to me. And honestly, it wouldn't have mattered if she looked like the Wicked Witch of the West. She was my BFF! I wanted her back.

"I'd... rather earn it."

Roman gripped the back of McKenzie's head rest and leaned forward. "We could do, like, a work release program. You could... clean our condo."

"Like a French maid," Kenzie deadpanned.

"Yeah!" Roman exclaimed as though the thought had just occurred to him. I know it hadn't. It'd been his idea all along.

"I'm not sure that's any better than stripping."

I knew it wasn't better than stripping. It. Was. Worse. Way worse. There was no way, no how these guys were going to make her clean our place. I did not want her going into their rooms. Things might happen. They'd not do anything that she didn't welcome. They'd make sure she enjoyed the experience. But I wouldn't.

Lucas turned off the highway towards Greek Row. "We wouldn't make you wear one of those frilly black uniforms or anything."

"Why not?" Roman sounded insulted. I wanted to shove a hockey stick up his ass.

"You all are not making Kenzie wash your dirty jockstraps, organize your porn or recycle your beer bottles."

McKenzie jerked around in her seat and shot me a sharp WTF glance and motioned for me to zip it. "Shut up! You don't get an opinion." Damn it, she needed this job.

"Yeah, Cap. You're not the boss of her."

Roman needed to look out. He might be a defensive-man but our next scrimmage and I was going to pile-drive him into the boards. It would not look like an accident.

"You aced our statistics test, Kenzie, I know you did," I said.

"So? What's that got to do with anything?"

"I flunked. The study group is as clueless as I am. If I don't bring my grades up, I'll be benched. I need a tutor."

The car grew silent--well, except the fucking seatbelt alarm. McKenzie turned away from me.

"Kenzie." I didn't plead with women. I didn't plead with anyone. If a person didn't want to offer what they had to sell, I could find it somewhere else. Except, no one but McKenzie, is, McKenzie. I wanted a tutor. I needed her. That need kept growing greater every time I saw her. Knowing we'd missed six years, because of me, was killing me. I'd plead for her forgiveness until the day I died.

"What do you think is going to happen, Col? We're not going to just be friends again."

"Give me a chance, please. Even if you can't forgive me, I still need your help."

Kenzie scrunched down in her seat. "I'd rather be a French maid." I couldn't see her sullen expression but I could hear it.

Roman leaned back from where he'd been hovering over her seat. "No. No. Nope, that offer's off the table." He crossed his arms which made our too tight space even tighter.

From the driver's seat, Lucas nodded. "I second that."

Owen said, "Would you drive faster, Luce? Collin just farted."

Ass Gas

McKenzie

I bite my lip. My dimples curved towards a smile as my laughter tried to escape because, ohmigod, these guys. They're kind. And thoughtful--I mean, they're giving me a ride. Lucas offered to spot me cash. I was going to take it if I couldn't come up with something else--fast. They were so goofy. I sneaked a peek into the backseat.

My smile faltered. I miss Collin so much. He's been trying to bridge the gap between us, and I have to admit, it's been working. I've almost caved. I almost caved tonight. It felt so good to have him hold me.

It's just--he hurt me so bad. How do I know he won't do it again? Last time I barely survived. This time it'd be worse, because as bad as I want his friendship, I also want... more. This time I'm not sure BFF would be enough. I'm not sure what would hurt worse: gain everything I've ever wanted and then get dumped, again, or become BFF once more and then watch from the sidelines as he falls in love with someone else. Ohmigod, that would hurt. No, not hurt, kill. That would kill me.

"There's no way that's me. I don't smell that bad."

"Damn it, Lucas! The window locks are on."

"He who smelt it, dealt it," Collin groused.

I can't help it. A giggle escapes. Collin's gaze flies to me but I turn around in time. I think. I know exactly who dealt it. It's not Collin. It's not Owen. During my teen years, I was so deadly during that not-fun-time-of-the-month my sisters tried to banish me from our bedroom. Even on the pill, my body hasn't completely forgotten--but I'll never admit it. Although, honestly, it's just a little gas. Everybody does it. Besides, Grandma Rivers says, "ladies don't fart. Their panties burp." My panties did it. So, not my fault.

To keep from giving up the deets--because Collin knows me too well--I'm surprised he hasn't already outed me--I look out the window. I recognize the houses we're passing.

"We're almost there," I tell Lucas. "My house is just there," I say, pointing down the road.

"Finally," Owen says.

Lucas slows. "The one with the porch light?"

The porch light is on, as are a few other lights. It's after midnight--on a school night. My sorority sisters should not be up. Then I see something that makes my blood freeze.

"Keep going. Keep going. Keep going," every utterance sounding more panicked than the one before it. I slide down in my seat so I'm not visible through the window.

Lucas accelerates. "Why, what's wrong?" he and Collin say at the same time.

I peek out of the window to be sure. It's Luke's car all right. There's Luke on the porch and a couple of my sisters in their bathrobes and fuzzy slippers, trying to shoo him away. God, I don't want to deal with this right now. I just want to go to bed and pretend like tonight never happened.

"That's Luke."

The Jeep rolls past my house. All is quiet, for a beat, except the stupid seatbelt alarm. It's really annoying now. Someone should, like, shove electrodes in the brain of the engineer that thought perpetual, unsilenceable alarms in a confined space were a good idea.

Ugh. I plant my face in both palms, drum my feet in the foot-well and squeal into my hands. "I can't deal with this right now." Yes, I'm fourteen.

"Pull over. I'll take care of the asshole."

I shoot up in my seat, alarmed. I twist to face the back. "No, Col, you can't. I really am dating Luke and he was just shocked. He wasn't expecting this. I didn't tell him about the stripping or... the other thing. He's just surprised."

The spiced rum in Collin's eyes took on an edge that was as sharp as flint. His visage turned stony. "Did he tell you he was going clubbing tonight?"

"No"

"Then you were just as surprised. You owe him nothing. Luce, pull over!"

"No!" An icy shaft of fear rammed itself through my heart. It's not for Luke. It's for Collin. I was afraid he might end up arrested if Lucas lets him out of the car. I did not file that police report for nothing.

"Luce."

"Ohmigod, no. Collin. You are not taking care of my problems for me. He is my boyfriend. My problem."

"So what are you going to do about it?" His voice somehow reminds me of steel.

I really didn't want to do this now. I haven't eaten for a day and a half. My leg hurts. My hip hurts. The seatbelt alarm is doing, like, weird shit to my downstairs and I have class in eight hours. I just want to go to sleep. A weary, wet, lead laden breath wells up from the depths of my soul. "I'll talk to him."

"Fuck that."

"Collin," I say in a frustrated whine.

"How 'bout you stay with us tonight, KZ," Roman says, his tone placating. Who'd've thunk? The team bruiser was being diplomatic.

"And where would I sleep?" I'd never been to their place before. I didn't imagine they just had a spare bed lying around.

"My bed. I'll take the couch." Collin sounded frustrated--almost angry. At me? At Luke? At Roman? I wasn't sure.

Well, two could play that game. I was frustrated too. "You don't have to do that." My aggravation electrified my nerves so much my hair should've frizzed. "I have a perfectly good bed at home."

"If you go back to your sorority tonight, I'm going with you."

I flounced down in my seat and crossed my arms. I was actually grateful I had an option that delayed my confrontation with Luke, but I didn't like how Collin was trying to force it down my panties. "You're just as chauvinistic as he is," I grumped to no one in particular.

"I'll own that, Kenzie, if it keeps you safe."

God, the dick on this man. I shouldn't be melting. "What makes you think I'm not safe?"

"He attacked you, Kenzie." I could hear the barely checked roar in Collin's tone. I felt a fluttering behind my ribs and, ohmigod, I wanted to climb onto his lap. Why did I want to climb onto his lap?

"Ugh. Fine. I'll sleep in your smelly bed."

"Thank you."

Shocked at the relief I heard in his voice, I jerk around to face the guys in back. Propped up by his two friends, Collin was slumped over like he'd just run a triathlon--except, I don't think an Ironman would've left Collin looking so whipped.

The Jeep slowed and turned into a drive. Lucas had to park in a way that the trunk of the car hung out over the sidewalk because there were three other vehicles in the driveway. I would've given my left arm for even the junker in the group, an older Pathfinder. I could've then driven into Sisters or Bend for a job that didn't, like, require me to take my clothes off.

I fished my phone out from under the flimsy scraps of clothing in my bag as I followed the boys to their door. I swiped up Ashley's contact in order to tell her that I wouldn't be home tonight. That she shouldn't worry. Of course when I opened my phone, I found out that she was already worried. So were most of my sorority sisters. I had missed like fifty texts.

"Shit." I wasn't watching where I was going and Collin must've stopped. I walked right into his back.

"Everything okay?"

I held up my hand for silence and dialed my girl.

"McKenzie! Where are you? Are you safe?"

"I'm okay, Ash."

"Where are you?"

"I'm with Col and his friends."

"Ohmigod, Kenzie, I was so worried!" Ashley's voice took on a perplexed, but no less worried, tone. "Luke said some guys followed you out of some strip club and hustled you into their car?"

Weariness reached up out of my soul and squeezed a sigh from my lungs. I'd told my sisters that I had a new job tonight, but not what it had entailed. I was not exactly at ease with my choices or that everyone should know them. I really wish Luke had kept his frigging mouth shut. I loved my sorority sisters but there was a chance the whole campus would know by this time tomorrow. "You mean the same guys that had to drag him off me when he attacked me on stage?"

"What!" Belatedly I pulled my phone away from my ear in a vain attempt to save my eardrum. "Tell me. Now!"

I told her. After her shock wore off, we chatted a little longer. Or, more exactly, I reassured her--and my entire sorority--that I was safe like forty million times. Finally, I told them that I wasn't coming home tonight, and yes, I had a place to stay. But if I saw Luke again, I'd have to call the police--again. I hung up with a heavy sigh.

"You okay?" Roman asked. Collin had gone upstairs--probably to hide his porn collection or something--and the others had signed off for the evening. Collin and I used to creep into our neighbor's garage and sneak a peek at the owner's Playboy collection together. Him because he's a boy. Me, because, well, I wanted to know what I had to look like in order to get Collin to kiss me. I grew up with something of an inferiority complex when it came to my boobs. And my hips. And my lips. And my hair. And my eyes. And my butt.

I have pretty toes. Yay, me.

"Yeah," I said in response to Roman's question. I dropped my floral print backpack on the floor and looked around the room. It was definitely "man-pad" with its leather sectionals and Jumbotron TV but it wasn't the smelly socks, beer bottle, pizza box disaster like some of the fraternities I'd been in.

Collin came trudging down the stairs, pillows and blankets wrapped in his arms. "Second door on the right," he said. "Bathroom's all yours. I'm done. I put out fresh towels if you want a shower. We've got practice in four hours so don't be alarmed if we're not here when you wake up. Help yourself to anything in the cupboards." He dumped his load on the couch, exposing himself. He was decent--sorta. He was wearing shorts, but, Oh. My. God. His shoulders and chest and arms and thighs and when he turned, his tight, tight ass. It was obscene how good he looked.

"Kenzie?"

I snapped my mouth closed. I was flushed. And drooling. And wet. Collin had just made me slicker than shattering glass.

Shout Out

McKenzie

I arrived home the next morning with Hermione's polyjuice cauldron boiling in my stomach. I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to do it. But what kind of sister would I be if I didn't say anything?

"Hi, Salene," I said into my phone. I flopped down on my bed.

"McKenzie, ohmigod, it's been too long."

Salene had been like the Mom my Mother wasn't when we were kids but as we'd gotten older, she'd reverted to sister. I kind of appreciated that. I asked about her trip to the Mediterranean, stalling.

I got an earful about how much I missed--and was missed. She didn't guilt me though. Salene understood my need to work. She just didn't know the work I was doing.

"I--" Frigging a, this was hard. She was so in love with Brian. I didn't want to be the one that hurt her with the news. "I saw Brian last night."

Silence for a beat.

"He told me." Oh God, there was pain in her voice.

"Did he tell you where I saw him?" I had to repeat myself because the first time I tried to say the words, they weren't even a whisper.

"That he'd gone to a strip club with some friends. That you were in the area and caught him on the way out."

"He did?" I barely recognized myself. My voice came out as a mousy squeak. Brian hadn't outed me? My heart was beating so fast I felt faint.

"Yes."

"Are you going to forgive him?" I didn't know how I wanted Salene to answer that question. I felt like I kinda owed Brian--bigtime--but I would eviscerate him with my nails if he was going to keep hurting her. He might've spared me the humiliation of outing my naked ass to my family, but Salene? She was my sister!

"I'm marrying him, McKenzie. We're going to hurt each other, but we're going to love each other too. I asked him to ask me next time, bachelor party or not. Then he and I would know how bad I'd hurt before he made his choice."

"Um--wow." My sister was super wise sometimes. That must come from being six years older than me.

We chatted a little longer, but I had classes and she had a dress fitting, so we said our goodbyes. Maybe I should've told her what I had really been doing--but I didn't.

When I got off the phone, I had twenty minutes before I needed to leave for class. I'd raided Collin's kitchen on the way out of his place, but other than foraging in his surprisingly health conscious cupboards, I hadn't eaten in a day and a half. I was starved from some real food--food with stuff like corn syrup and soy in it. My sisters had been eating toaster waffles yesterday morning, maybe there were still some in the freezer.

I met Sophie coming out of her room on the way to the kitchen. She did not look very awake.

"Oh, you're back." There was a note of something in her voice--not quite resentment but not quite happy with me either. I wasn't sure where that was coming from. Sophie and I weren't super close but we'd never had a problem before.

"Your boyfriend woke up the whole house--at one a. m."

Ah. I guess I would be grumpy too. "Ex-boyfriend," I said. I hadn't told him yet, but Luke was no dummy. He had to realize that last night had blown up anything we'd ever had. There was an ache in my heart, but it was not nearly as painful as I thought it would've been. We'd been apart all summer, so maybe that was it. I was far more anxious about what he might say about me, and to whom. He was a poli-sci major. Some politicians seemed to make a career out of character assassination. Given what Luke now knew about me, he'd not even have to twist the truth to assassinate my character. Honestly, the more I thought about it, the more my intestines twisted, so I tried not to think about it.

Sophie and I made our way to the kitchen. She put down the toaster waffles while I rounded up plates, syrup, butter and utensils for the two of us. Ashley joined us a moment later so I fished a third plate out of the cabinet.

"So are the things he said about you true?" Sophie said. The first of the waffles popped up. She hissed as she tossed them on my plate and hastily licked the pads of her burned fingers. The pain didn't stop her from doing it again when she served Ashley.

Meanwhile, Ashley asked if any of us wanted coffee. She poured all three of us a cup and then reloaded the pot for any of our other sisters that might want some. "That you were at Sisters Exposed--stripping?"

I hadn't even told Ashley where I'd been working last night. There were cracks in my identity. I was becoming two people. One who was a sex object. One who was a secret keeper that didn't want anyone knowing that she was a sex object. I didn't like it. I wanted to be me--free--not what my situation had led me to do. I couldn't find my voice so I nodded, because I didn't want to lie any longer.

"And a cam girl?" Sophie added. I'm sure Luke had used a different phrase--one that had included whore. A sour expression twisted my face. Sophie raises her hands. "No judgment. My girl Diana, in the dorms? She does it too. It doesn't stop us from being besties."

I felt something akin to relief weaken my knees. We always feel so alone, but we're not. It always feels nice to be seen and not judged. Rising affection for my sorority sister pressured my chest.

"We all have things we're ashamed of, McKenzie. You don't have to hide. We won't judge you," Ashley said.

Speaking around a lump of waffle in her mouth, Sophie said, "And those who do, aren't your friends. This way you get to find who your friends are."

She was right. I had found out something about Luke last night--something that I was glad to know. I also found out something about Collin. He had not seen me as something less. He, and his friends, had seen more than just a stripper. They'd seen a person. So had Sophie. I had friends I didn't even know about.

Something pressured up behind my eyes. I blinked, hard. That little splinter, the crack that had formed in my soul when I stepped out on stage last night, healed. We chatted some more but we all had things to do and I had to leave for class.

The Looking Glass Lake shoreline bike path ran from Pining to Cascade Pines University. Until snow began falling later in the season, it was a student superhighway. Bikes, skate boards and inline skates zipped between pedestrians. Pumice crunched under my sneakers as I walked the trail worn into the soil beside the pavement. Morning temperatures had plummeted but it was warm enough in the sun so I ditched my jacket.

"McKenzie!"

Alarm raced up my spine and set off little electric fireworks in my brain. Of course he knew my schedule. Of course he knew where to ambush me. I don't know why I hadn't anticipated this.

"Luke."

Luke trotted up beside me. It's weird. Yesterday morning I would've happily gone up on my toes to greet him with a peck on the lips. Today I just wanted to dump my coffee over his golden curls and Under Armour. But I didn't have coffee. I needed coffee. Or any drink, preferably one that would leave a stain. Why didn't I bring coffee?

"We need to talk." Luke was still objectively good looking--tall, blond, blue eyed--but his behavior at the club had BBQed any affection I'd ever felt for him. I mean, I might've been able to let go of the fact that he'd dragged me off the stage if it had stopped there. But his insistence that he was innocent, that he was the victim, had soured any chance at forgiveness.

"About how you attacked me?"

Several commuters glanced our way. I felt my face heat with more than just the sun. I wanted to hide behind my hair so bad, but I didn't. I hadn't done anything wrong except try to make a wage. I lengthened my stride

He trotted a pace in order to overtake me. "You were fuckin' stripping." I wasn't short but he was taller than me. I literally felt like he was talking down to me.

I did not look at him. I refused to look at him. I clenched my jaw and spoke through my teeth. "I needed that job. You got me fired."

"You could've asked me for money."

"We've been over that," I snapped. Borrowing money from Luke's family never turned out good for anyone but Luke's family. Dad had not so subtly hinted at that when I'd started dating Luke. I'm pretty sure Salene had received the same memo, but after my conversation with my sister this morning I was willing to bet that Brian's apple had fallen a little farther from the tree than Luke's.

Luke grabbed my arm, right above my elbow, and jerked me to a stop. "I'm going to be a senator, McKenzie, I can't date a stripper!"

I yanked my arm from his grip. Ouch, it felt like he might've left fingerprint bruises under the sleeve of my sweater. I was more angry than frightened, though. It was light out. We were in the open. There were a thousand women within the range of my scream. There were a thousand man-boys. I'd bet dollars to pennies some of them would go all white-knight and come to my rescue. But I was glad we were not in a dark alley. The expression on Luke's face was part righteous anger, part abject disgust, part possessive lust. The icy claws of fear skittered down my spine like a terrified spider.

But I could feel righteous fury too. I called on it. Fury was way more pleasant than the fear. "Then it's a good thing we're not together, isn't it!" I turned and marched away from him as fast as my legs would carry me.

"Are you really a cam whore?" he bellowed in my wake.

Pedestrians stopped. Bikes skid. Skaters braked. One dude almost plowed into me as he flipped up his skateboard in a desperate attempt not to initiate a fifty-pedestrian pile up. Horror grounded through me like a lightning bolt. I have no idea why, but I had not thought Luke would do that. I felt dizzy. My fingers felt cold. There was probably no blood in them. I turned towards him. A strangled sound issued from my throat but I couldn't process any words. I put my face in my hands and ran.

French Maid

McKenzie

I threw a clean flat sheet on my bed, tucked in the foot, folded back the top edge and finished tucking. A mild sting sparked in my skin with every motion. I'd pretty much scrubbed a layer of flesh from my bones while scalding myself in the shower after my most recent online session. I'd spent the whole episode biting my nails, fearing Luke, Collin or anyone from Luke's "shout out" had figured out my totally unoriginal screen name, @EmzyStreams, and joined my room. I wonder how many of my regulars now knew I was a student at CPU. I didn't actually detect anything unusual but my nerves had caused my performance, and tips, to suffer.

But I couldn't stop. I needed those tips. Because if I found some way to pay my rent come Friday, I'd still need to pay bills for the remainder of the school year. Those bills were substantial. Not only was there rent, but I had two more quarters to pay for this school year.

But maybe it was a moot point. I didn't have the cash. My sorority sisters' crowd fund had stalled. Between that and the dryer lint left in my saving's account I was still more than two-hundred dollars short. I thought about calling Dad, but I didn't want to tell him how I was paying for the rest of the school year. I felt the same hesitation with Salene and Heather--who might not have been able to help anyway. I'd just as soon tell my Dad as my older brothers.

I'd already checked with Sisters Exposed, asking for another shift. The club did not want me back. Luke might not have cowed the cops with his mothers' name, but the gentleman's club didn't deem one more naked girl worth a Councilwoman's scrutiny. I'd placed some of the nicer sex-me outfits that I'd been gifted by my fans on Ebay, but second hand lingerie didn't exactly sell for a lot, or fast.

I was screwed and I only had one option left. I fished some black suede pumps, accented with lace, from my closet and shoved my extra skimpy French maid costume in my backpack. Collin's place wasn't actually that dirty--I mean there's always stuff to do around a house--a maid earned her wages--but if I was going to get the boys to put the offer back on the table, I might need to be eye candy. I'd avoid it if I could, but best to be prepared.

I sought out Ashley on the way down to the door, let her know that I'd be out and where I'd be at. She was my safety net and I was hers. We kept tabs on each other that way--usually. I had not told her about the stripping. The secret had felt right at the time but now I was ashamed I hadn't trusted her. I let myself out and turned away from campus. I walked as fast as I could. After Luke's little advertising stunt, every time someone glanced my way I felt like they recognized me.

After five minutes of walking I left the Greek Houses behind. From here, all the way to Pining, the rest of the old highway was lined with condos. Nearly all of them were identical. Nearly every one of them housed students. However, after waking up in Collin's bed yesterday, I was pretty sure I'd be able to find my way back to his house. In the end, it was Lucas' Wrangler that tipped me off that I was at the right place. It was still light, but Middle Sister's shadow had stretched across the lake, so maybe it was the air coming off the mountains and not my nerves that made me feel chilled to the bone. I knocked. Roman answered the door. Thank God.

"KZ," he said, hitching his shoulder and hip up against the door frame. He crossed his arms. He was in a tight black tee shirt, so I could like see his muscle game. He was ripped. And, if I'm being honest, as sexy as hell. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it. "Collin's not here."

"I--uh--wasn't looking for Collin." I wasn't. Collin was the wild card in this plan and I really didn't need him messing it up for me. I needed that money.

He cocked a brow at me. A voice shouted, "Roman, who's at the door?" A moment later Lucas appeared behind Roman. He was almost as tall as Roman, a little leaner, but equally ripped. My God, was there some kind of "must look like Atlas" clause in their lease agreement? "McKenzie?"

"Hi."

"What can we do for you KZ?"

"I was wondering if--uh--"

Owen shouted from somewhere in the depths of the house. "Invite her in, assholes!"

Roman rolled his eyes, but used his head to motion me in. I followed the guys into the front room. Lucas flopped down on the sectional and unpaused NHL 24 on the Playstation, but he gave the game only half his attention. Owen, the shortest by far, which made him like six-foot, entered the room from the kitchen. The house smelled pleasantly of Mexican spices--so maybe tacos? It smelled a sight better than the burnt mac, cheese and ham casserole I had cooked for the sorority this evening.

"There's some food in the kitchen, if you want," he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

"I--maybe later?" I wasn't crazy happy about what I was prepared to offer so I was feeling a little bewildered with all these guys looking at me.

Roman repeated his earlier question. "What can we do for you, KZ?"

"I lost my job." I felt heat touch my cheeks. I wrung my hands. "I really need some cash, like yesterday. You said I could be your maid?"

Roman scrubbed a temple with the heel of his hand. "We weren't serious K--"

"Wait!" I blurted. I slung my floral print backpack off my shoulder and tilted it towards the boys. "I've got the outfit and everything. Let me put it on for a proper interview." I was wearing jeans and an off the shoulder sweater. My dark hair was up in a tail.

"Aw, fuck, that's hot," Roman said peering into my open pack. "Do it."

"We talked about this, dickhead. Collin will kill you."

"Who's going to tell him, you?" Lucas called from the couch. He'd paused his game again. "Don't be such a prude, Owen, let her put on the damn dress."

The dynamic between the three boys felt... off, but I didn't have the luxury to figure it out. I needed money--now. I'd already proven I'd take my clothes off to get it. I'd be ashamed to the end of my days, but I'd dance on their coffee table if I had to. After what had happened in the club I trusted them to keep their hands off me if I said, "no."

"I need this job, Owen, please."

Owen ignored me. Instead he spoke to his housemates. "God, you shits are assholes. I hope I never need your help." He turned and left the room. A guilty look flashed across Roman's and Lucas' faces. My gaze bounced between them wondering what was going on. Owen re-entered the room.

"You can't tell Cap," he said to me and handed me an envelope. I looked inside. It was fat with cash. "We took a team collection."

I--wow. I wasn't aware that the team knew about me, or cared. Why would they give me their cash--and so much of it? My girls had crowd funded and come up short. College students didn't have extra. As my new friend Sophie had pointed out, there were a lot of girls taking their clothes off for tuition. School wasn't cheap and apparently younger siblings from small towns were at significant risk for doing what I do--and more--especially when their families placed their investments in their brothers. This much money had to come with strings attached.

"I... thank you?" I hadn't meant it as a question.

"That is not a gift."

Yup, I knew there were strings.

"We told you, Collin needs a mentor. We weren't serious about the maid thing. We were serious about that. Forty dollars an hour, four hours a week, until the end of term. It's all there."

Four hours a week? With Collin? My stomach cramped. I'd never protect my heart. This was going to hurt so bad.

"How am I supposed to not tell him?"

"Don't know. Figure it out."

And just like that, a plan comes to mind. I stuck out my hand. "Done. Four hours a week. No refund."

Owen places his oversized bear-mit in my palm. He doesn't squeeze too tight, and I'm glad, because I'm pretty sure he could break me. We shake.

Welp. I guess I was going to be hanging out with Collin. Hello broken heart. I'd have almost preferred the French maid thing. At least this way I wouldn't be required to flash my ass. "When do I start?"

Favor for a Favor

Collin

It's morning. It's bright. There's not a cloud in the sky. All three of the Sisters and Broken Top rise over the campus in bright, white, snow capped glory.

All I feel is gloom.

I'd rocked my last essay in The Art of Interview and my prof had loved my project proposal for Broadcasting Journalism. I was feeling good about those classes. I was flunking Statistics. Once again my homework assignment is incomplete.

Last night I'd stayed late at study group. I'm not an idiot. I can do math. And truth be told, other than all the memorization and shit, there wasn't that much that was difficult about statistics... except every problem took a shitload of math. There was no way to complete all of it. Setting up a single problem could take fifteen minutes. The opportunity for human error while calculating was astronomical.

I had made a major mistake when I'd not dropped the class. Any excitement at seeing McKenzie was long past. McKenzie didn't want to see me. I'd not respected that. I'd put my wants first.

And the other night, I'd watched those asshole cops and her asshole boss and her asshole boyfriend put their own needs first and... fuck. Knowing I had done the same? That had cut me. McKenzie's needs had come last. Then I'd forced my whole white-knight thing down her throat. She'd fought. I'd won and, God help me, I'd do it again. I could not just let my BFF put herself in that kind of danger. But, dammit, McKenzie deserved to be first.

So, I'd not force myself on her any longer. That in mind, I trudged up the steps to Whiteman Hall and made my way to class. I dropped into an empty seat in the front row of the auditorium without even scanning the room.

Even over the chatter of other students, I heard the gasp. There was a quick shuffle of papers. It sounded like a scuffle broke out. I almost looked.

"McKenzie?" That was Ashley's voice.

McKenzie's book bag landed in front of my toes. She dropped into the chair beside me. Her stats book, neatly bookmarked with like a hundred sticky tabs, slammed down on her desk.

Silence for a beat. I stared straight ahead.

"Are you judging me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper but there was fury in it.

What? Fuck. "No." The word that exited my mouth way more cautious than the same word sounding in my mind. "Kenzie, I would never."

"Yeah, then why are you down here?" There was heat in her words--and tension, like she really wanted to clock me again.

"Because you've been asking me for space, and I haven't respected that. I should've respected that."

She doesn't answer me for the longest time. In fact, Professor Frye enters the class and begins the lecture before McKenzie breaks her silence. "Well, maybe what I want, what I need and what I say are different things." My heart squeezes so tight behind my sternum I think my chest might implode. All I can hear is this roaring in my ears.

I mean I'm failing this class, but I can't pay attention to Professor Silvia Frye. "What are you talking about?"

"You need help with class. I need help with my sister's wedding. Want to make a deal? My place? Tonight? Around seven?"

***

That evening, I knock on the door to McKenzie's sorority. A sandy blonde with a lollypop in her mouth and candy stained lips answers. She looks kind of cute in a floral patterned romper and no shoes. I think I recognize her. She's one of the girls that had accosted me when I tried to speak with McKenzie that fateful day on the beach. I think her name is something like Josie, Sophie or Nosie... something like that.

She gives me a hard glare but steps aside for me. "Second floor, third door on the left," she says around her Dum Dum or Blow Pop or whatever the hell it is. I thank her but she just does that thing where she points two fingers at her eyes and then at me. I don't know what it is with women but they give me the chills sometimes. I head upstairs.

"Come in," McKenzie calls when I knock on her door.

I don't know what I'm expecting. I haven't been in McKenzie's room since we were kids. She'd shared that one with all three of her sisters. She apparently has this one to herself. The walls were a cream, not quite peach color. The small space was dominated by a full sized bed. Her comforter matched the walls and had what looked like cream wedding lace for ruffles. Like the rest of the house, the floors were scarred hardwood but she'd put down a worn lavender throw rug. She had a battered wooden dresser and had placed a vanity mirror on top.

McKenzie had not used makeup when we were kids but that had obviously changed. There were liners and shadows and cleansers and creams, not to mention, two flat irons and a blow drier in front of the mirror. Pens, books and office supplies were stacked neatly on her built-in desk. She had a west facing window, giving her an enviable view of the lake and mountains beyond. There were no boy band posters, Taylor Swift shit or mountains of stuffed animals like there had been when we were kids. She did have one stuffie, an old bear that was so loved that the only hair it had left was along the seams. She'd called it Collie back in the day and I felt a pang wondering if its name had changed. The air held just a hint of the coast--lilac or rhododendron or something.

McKenzie herself was sitting lotus style on the rug in front of her bed. Our stats homework was spread out in front of her. She wore a cute cherry print top that was short enough that when coupled with her thigh hugging, low cut, al la Britney Spears jeans that I could see maybe an inch of skin and the straps of her thong. I readjusted my pants uncomfortably. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed, I'd noticed every time I laid eyes on McKenzie for the past month, but my awkward, scrappy BFF had turned into the bomb. I didn't want to think of her that way, but, holy fuck, McKenzie could've easily starred in any straight, red blooded male's fantasies.

Without looking up she waved to clear section of carpet in front of her. "Have a seat, Col."

I shifted uncomfortably. Jeans, lotus and man wood were not a comfortable combination. I replayed the time I'd taken a groin shot without a cup in the theater of my mind. That memory afforded me a little room downstairs. Creaking like an old man--these thighs were not made for lotus--I joined her.

"Let's start with our homework so I can get a feel where you're at. First problem. Page ninety-six."

"Kenzie," I said. There'd been something stewing in my stomach ever since she'd invited me over this morning and I didn't care to think about what might happen if I didn't get these nerves out. "Would you look at me? Please?"

McKenzie raised her gaze. It was the first time I'd seen her in glasses since we were kids. The square frames were raspberry and vanilla and set off the emerald in her eyes. Those eyes were big. And wide. And frightened. And hurting. God how I ached to pull her into my lap, kiss her luxurious hair and swear on all that was holy that everything would be okay. But I didn't think she'd accept that. McKenzie had invited me here but I got the sense she was poised to flee.

She bit her lip. It looked soft and plush and I wanted to bite it. Seeing her do that was like a sword piercing my heart. I've kissed girls, lots of girls, but I'd never felt the need to kiss a girl. It was almost impossible to remember that this girl had once been my BFF and that I wanted that back. I was not looking to sweat together between sheets. Between my need to comfort her and my lust, I was fucking confused.

Say something you ass, anything. I almost pulled my hair, because her eyes, her face, her lips had erased my mind.

"Let's do our homework. Then maybe we can--" I heard the nerves in her voice. They matched mine. "--maybe talk, 'k?"

"'Kay" My heart had taken up residence in my throat. I'm not sure how I got even that one syllable out. I let my pack slide off my shoulder and fished my school work from it. I was still on the second problem when she had finished hers. She put up her papers and then scooched around the carpet until she was beside me and could lean into my shoulder to see what I was doing.

My breath hitched. And then my posture melted. Fuck me if she didn't melt a little too. Something pressured up in my chest and I swear I thought I was going to explode.

"Why are you doing all that?"

All what? I was still focused on the soft warmth pressed up against me. The smell that suffused the room--that lilac or rhododendron sea breeze smell--it clung to her too. God, I wanted to put my face in her neck and huff. Oh, Kenzie meant the three pages of math in front of me.

"I've got to do these summations and integrals to calculate deviation--right?"

"You do, but... where's your calculator?"

I handed her my calculator. Taking it, she straightened. Intense regret swept through me as McKenzie's weight eased off my shoulder. I wobbled, just checking myself before I leaned into her.

"Collin," McKenzie said, looking down at the mini-computer in her hand. "This thing is archaic. Did you not read the syllabus?"

"Of course I read the syllabus." Five times. I felt offended. I sounded offended.

"It said we needed a statistical calculator. It even told us which one's would be best to buy."

"That is a statistical calculator. See, that, right there--" I pointed to the little red button that said STAT, "--that puts it in statistical mode."

"So how do you do a standard population deviation on this thing?"

"Well..." I flipped to a clean page in my notebook and scribbled out a formula that was the square root of the square of a summation all over n.

"I mean how do you do it with the calculator?"

"I..." I didn't get the question. "I subtract. I add. I divide. I--"

"Ohmigod, Collin, no!" She leans forward to grab her calculator. Her shirt rides up. Her jeans pull down. The strings of her thong look no thicker than quarter inch satin Christmas ribbon and I'm looking right down her backside. My dick gets so hard my jeans threaten to cut off my circulation. Fuck, my BFF is hot. And I'm not sure I want her as my BFF anymore. BFF won't be enough. I know it won't. And that scares me.

Hockey is first in my life. If, no when, I catch the eye of a team, it won't be to any teams around here. There are no NHL teams around here. If McKenzie can't, or won't, follow me--why should she--I'll be shattering her heart all over again. I can't do that. I won't do that. Besides, as much as I want this girl, she's still a woman. Women have been at the root of all the worst moments of my life. God, I don't want to say this, but I need to leave Kenzie alone. Why hadn't I realized that weeks ago?

McKenzie sits back up, taking her dick throbbing portrait of a plumber's crack away from me. It's not a fair comparison. I've never wanted to ogle plumber's crack but I'd happily ogle Kenzie's crack every day of my life. Fuck, I needed a distraction, because my dick hurts.

She tilts the face of her calculator towards me. Its screen is bigger than the one on mine and there are a whole bunch of fucking buttons on it that mine doesn't have either. There's even an upside down U operator. McKenzie punches a few buttons and the formula I'd scribbled out on my scratch paper appears on her screen. She enters three numbers, pushes enter and bingo--the fucking answer.

"This," she says, waving the calculator in my face, "was on the syllabus. This and two other calculators like it."

My ego wants to defend itself, but what the fuck do I say? "My calculator can do all that, see it has a summation button," I said, pointing at a key that had like three symbols on it. Supposedly the function button changes which of the operators it uses.

"Yeah, but do you use it? Do you know how to use it? Is it as easy as mine?"

No to all three questions. I don't say anything.

McKenzie knows she's got me. There's a twinkle in her eye. She smirks at me like she's forgotten that we are no longer friends. There's a painful throb in my heart as some iced over emotion rises from the depths of my soul. God, I've missed her. I mean, I knew I missed her but this is like a whole new level of missing her.

She picks up my calculator and tosses it across the room. Two points. No rim. All net. Right in the trash.

"Kenzie," I half growl and half exclaim in shock.

She plunks her calculator down in front of me and says, "Do your homework." God, when she talks like that she sounds just like her sister Salene.

I do my homework. She occasionally helps me when I can't figure out how to pull up the correct functions on her micro-computer, because that's what this freaking calculator is, but otherwise doesn't help me with my math. Thirty minutes later I'm done. McKenzie's arms are crossed. There's a sparkle in her eyes. There's a shit eating grin on her lips. Her whole face glows.

"My work is done."

Dammit.

She pulls her homework from between the leaves of her text book, sets it beside mine and low and behold, every answer is the same. I knew my statistics. I was just too dumb to use the right tools.

"Thank you," I try. It doesn't come out so I have to clear my throat and say it again. My ego feels like it has rolled in a patch of nettles while fending off a colony of mud-daubers.

"You're welcome." I'm expecting her to gloat but I detect none of that in her voice. In fact, her demeanor shifts and the whole mood in the room--her aura--changes. It's like a light went out, because everything dims. "I need a favor, Collin. An exchange. I tutor you, I keep tutoring you. You do me a favor."

"Okay," I say, hesitantly. Tutoring me or not, I'd do anything for Kenzie, which tells me I'm in trouble. I know that's how they get you, but the tremor in her voice is giving me the nerves.

"Salene is getting married next month."

I remember. She'd told me and the guys on our way home a few nights past.

"Heather is the maid of honor but I'm a bridesmaid."

Makes sense.

"Luke is the best man."

Luke? Fuck, Luke! No way. Not happening. I feel a growl rising in my throat but I check it because she's not done talking.

"I won't have to stand with him but..." McKenzie wrings her hands. She's looking at the floor. "I need a plus one." She chokes a little. "I need someone who will stand by me." She looks up and there is so much pain in her jade eyes it rips my heart out. "No matter what." Her gaze drops again. "Ash will do it. But I want you."

Pride pressures my chest. Alarm bells are going off in my head. She's my friend again--my best friend. I should've checked my bitch paranoia at the door. She's not a bitch. Few women are. But Helen destroyed Troy just by being desirable. Briseis could've ruined the Greeks or the Trojans both. Achilles and Agamemnon fought to the death because of her. Not her fault, but that's the power women wield. I'm relieved when my words don't reflect my fears.

"Kenzie, of course. What time? When? Where?" Shit, I hope I don't have a game.

She tells me and, thank God, I think it might be one of our rare weekends off. I tell her I'll check my schedule, just to be sure, but I swear to myself that I will do everything possible to be there for McKenzie. I can't help myself when I ask, "Why me? Given our recent history, I'd have thought you'd prefer Ash."

McKenzie's expression twists, like she'd bitten into a raw lime. There's a bitter note in her voice when she says, "Ash is a woman. You're a man... sorta. There's something about having a dick that makes people stand up and take heed."

My pride pops like a balloon. I never thought it'd feel like shit having a hot chick use me for my dick.

Oreo Cookies

McKenzie

My knuckles make a sharp rap on Collin's door. The impact of hand to wood is a sharp reminder of that time my fist hit Collin's jaw.

"Not now, Ro." Collin's voice is muffled, like he might be in his en-suite bathroom. I think I hear the water running. He sounds frustrated. "I'm rinsing my fucking mouth out."

When I'd arrived at the condo for another study session with Collin, Owen had let me in and pointed me upstairs towards Col's room. Roman was down at the end of the hall, a shit eating grin scrawled across his face. He lifts his finger to his lips and I get the impression there's been a bit of harassment going on. I bite my lip to keep from giggling.

"Your toothpaste Oreos tasted like shit."

Oh! My! God! Roman doubles over in laughter. There're tears streaming down his face. I nearly fall over.

"I though you liked mint Oreos," Roman calls through the door. I don't know how he does it. I don't think I can speak.

I hear stomping on the other side of the door. It's like a T-rex approaching. "I hope you like knuckle sandwi--"

Collin's door rips open. I fall because I'd been shaking so hard I'd been leaning against it. No longer needing to hide my presence, I release my bottom lip from under my teeth and my laughter screams from me. I curl up in a ball, I'm giggling so hard.

"Kenzie?"

I look up at him. My laughter dies.

Collin's not wearing shoes. He's not wearing a shirt. He's ripped and I mean rrrrriiiiiiped. Tarzan would be envious. I mean he has this man-vee. And an eight-pack. And pecks just made for tracing with a tongue. It's like his frig-me muscles have muscles. A hot drip pools in my core. I scramble to my feet.

"What are you doing here?" He's surprised. I'm surprised, but I promised the guys I'd tutor him. I promised him I'd tutor him. Honestly, after last night I'd been having a hard time staying away. So here I am, vying for another study session. That's what I tell myself anyway.

I duck under his arm into his room. There's heat in my cheeks--and a lot of other places too. I don't want him to see it. "I'm here to study, moron."

Out in the hall Roman snickers. Collin twists to face me.

A perplexed expression washes over Collin's face. "We already did our homework."

I pop a hip and prop a hand on it. "What about all the other homework you've failed?"

Roman howls.

Collin directs his gaze towards the hall. "Fuck off, shit-head." He turns back towards me. "I--uh--think I've got it covered now."

I suspect he does. But I've been paid for four hours a week. I'm going to earn it. At least that is why I tell myself I'm here. What I say is, "Are you backing out on our deal?"

"What? Of course not."

"Good. Where's your calculator?"

"In your wastebasket," Collin deadpans. "Where you put it."

There's a thunk followed by the sound of wheezing from the hall. I wonder if we should check to see if Roman is still breathing.

"You mean, you've not purchased a new one?"

He shrugs. "Haven't gotten around to it."

"Collin Phinley Kimball!" I say. "We had a deal. I am your tutor. You will not fail on my watch."

"Not planning too."

"What if we have a quiz on Monday?" That's a real possibility. We've had one every week since the third week of the quarter.

"Sheesh, Kenzie. You sound like Salene." Now there's a compliment if I've ever heard one. He strides over to his desk and retrieves his laptop. He logs into an online vendor. "See, I'm ordering it right now."

"Nu-uh. It might not arrive on time." I step up to him--close, too close, because I can smell that fir and cedar scent he uses. It does things to me. Really warm, I need to squirm, things. I ignore my lady lusts and wiggle my phalanges at Collin's toes. "Put some shoes on." I walk my fingers up all those I-want-to-lick-them muscles. My nipples pebble. Thank God I'm wearing a real bra, with padding. "And a shirt." I bop him on the nose. His expression is so cute. "We're going shopping."

***

We'd gone to the University Bookstore on Saturday. I spent two hours on Sunday teaching Collin to use his new calculator. It was a trying experience. He spent the entire study session bemoaning the beating he'd taken during Saturday's exposition game. Sure, I cringed every time he got slammed against the boards by Colorado's behemoth enforcer but he's the idiot that signed up for it--big baby. But it was a good thing we'd gone shopping. Professor Sylvia Frye is nothing if not consistent. Pop quiz. Ten problems. Monday. I know I wasn't supposed to, but I couldn't help it. I peeked at Collin's test when we handed it in.

Yyeesss! I do a little happy dance in my seat when the TA's back is to me. I'm a rocking tutor. My man can add.

"Fuck, Kenzie." He fist bumps me. "Thank you." His grin is infectious and I can't help but respond. This was what it was like when Collin and I were friends. This is how it is supposed to feel.

"You're welcome." I swear my words sound like a smile. I'm so happy. I feel like I'm glowing. For a moment I'm able to forget about money, Mother, Luke and cam whore me. I might be imagining the increase in traffic since Luke's shout out but the stares I've been getting around campus have definitely made me uncomfortable. I'll be able to pay my tuition next quarter but at what cost?

Collin's grin grows bigger. Ashley is on the other side of me and she rolls her eyes at us. I mean, I can't see her roll her eyes, but I can, like, feel her eyes rolling. She leans into my ear and says, "Took you long enough."

It did. Way too long. So, yeah, the first six years might've been Collin's fault. So what? The last month is on me. Life is just better with Collin in it. Never again. Never again, will I shut out a now happy because of a then sad.

Professor Frye finishes the lecture. We all pack up to go. As we are exiting the lecture hall I turn to Collin. "Now I need you to pay up."

"Pay up? Now? I thought Salene's wedding was in October. I checked the weekend. I'm free--it's the only weekend I'm free."

"I know. Not that. I need you to escort me to a dress fitting."

"In Florence?"

"No. Pining, dumb-head." It's a childish name but we were children when I first called him that. "Special Day Lace. My sister had my dress sent here. Or--" I adopt a snob voice. "--Councilwoman Stromberg." I chill it. "The woman's got more cash than she knows what to do with." Given its miniscule size it was amazing that Pining had its own tailor, but the beauty of Pining drew the wedding crowds. Emergency alterations were Special Day Lace's bread and butter.

"'Kay. Why?"

The question wasn't very clear, but I knew what he meant. He wasn't asking why I needed a fitting. He was asking why I wanted him there. I bopped him on the nose again.

"Councilwoman Stromberg. Luke's Mom. My dress. Luke's tux. Understand now, dumb-head?"

Dress Code

Collin

This was why I didn't want a girlfriend. They wanted things from you. True, I wanted things from them too. But while a woman could satisfy me, I could never give her enough. She always wanted more. Case and point: I'd agreed to go to Salene's wedding. Now Kenzie wanted me to go to a dress fitting. I had been planning to take an ice bath. Not that ice baths were fun, but I'd taken a pummeling on Saturday and then again in practice this morning. My torso was one big bruise.

But I owed this girl. Bigtime. And not just because I'm pretty sure I just passed my statistics test for the first time. I wanted to spend time with McKenzie. Fuck it. I guess I'm just going to be black and blue.

I run a hand through my hair. "My car's at my place."

"Sweet. Which one was your ride? The Camaro? The Raptor?"

The question takes me by surprise. I sometimes forget that Kenzie doesn't know everything about my life. That she hadn't been there when I got my license--when I bought my car. I sigh because I think she was kind of excited about the sports car and muscle truck. "The Pathfinder."

"Oh, well--" She sounds disappointed. She looks disappointed. Her voice perks up. "--more room for Ash then."

"Ash is coming?" I'd been hoping for a little more of me and Kenzie time--alone. We'd spent time together Friday, Saturday and Sunday and I was already addicted--which alarmed me. I needed to fill up my McKenzie deficit from the past six years. Withdrawals had been murder, but it had helped me focus on hockey. Ash smirked up at me like she knew exactly what I had been thinking. I don't know how I ever fell for her. Actually, I do. Because Ashley is like wow, but she's not my BFF. She's not Kenzie.

"Of course." McKenzie gazes at me with this flat expression. "I need someone who will tell me the truth when I ask, 'does this dress makes my butt look fat?'"

My gaze falls to her ass. Her jeans look like they are painted on. Her ass does not look fat. It looks bite worthy. I remember how it looked Friday when she'd bent over in those Britney Spears Jeans. My eyes might've glazed over. McKenzie's cheeks turn pink when she realizes where my attention has gone. She glances everywhere but at me.

"I deserved that," she mutters and rapidly retreats towards the exit. I can hear the embarrassment in her voice. "But you could've controlled yourself." I smile at her backside. Ashley flips me off, because, yup, I deserved that.

The three of us walk back to my place chatting about random shit--classes, homework, projects, hockey. We talk a lot about hockey--McKenzie more than me. Apparently she still adores the game. Impressing her might've been why I started playing in the first place. She wants to be a sports analyst at a broadcast station, or better yet, a team. She could do anything--NFL, NBA, NWSL, VNL but, like me, NHL is her dream. I invite her to one of my games, but she's already got season tickets. I ask her if she's got my jersey. She says, "In your dreams."

It is now. Fuck, Kenzie in my jersey would be like--well better than sex--except maybe, it'd lead to sex, and that'd be better yet. I'd get home from my game and she'd be lingering on my bed in nothing but my jersey. Lingering. Am I right? Hottest lingerie ever. Fuck, I don't know how I got there. I sure the hell hope she can't see into my brain. I don't need McKenzie knowing this shit. I just barely got her smiling at me again.

My car is blocked when we reach my place. I go in to get the boys to help me shuffle the deck. Roman catches me at the door of Lucas's Jeep. He's already moved his Raptor.

"Who's that?" he says, nudging me. He nods his head towards McKenzie and Ash. He knows Kenzie so he can't be asking about her.

"Ashley."

Roman leans up against the door of Lucas's Jeep, preventing me from opening it. "Anything going on between the two of you? You're all about KZ, right?"

I let out a lead laden sigh. "Not anymore."

He quirks a brow at me.

"She's the reason Kenzie wasn't talking to me."

Roman deadpans. "Tell me more."

"Not much to tell. Kenzie was my BFF--like since we were four. Freshman year of high school, I dated Ash. Ash got jealous. I did something so fucking stupid I deserve to be recorded as the biggest idiot ever in the Guinness Book of World Records. McKenzie's family moved away and I never got to say I'm sorry. Now six fucking years later they're besties."

Roman's gaze slid off Ashley and landed on me. He gave me a flat stare. "You didn't get to say you're sorry?"

"How could I? Her whole family moved away, I didn't even know where."

Roman pulls out his phone and I scratch my nose with my middle finger because of course I tried to call her but he doesn't say anything. Instead he opens Facebook. He pulls up a profile and, what the fuck, I shoot a furious glance between him and Kenzie. "Not even private," he says. "And look at that, is that Heceta Head lighthouse? Oh wait, yeah, she says it is in the description. That's right outside of Florence, isn't it? And Sea Lion Caves, that's like there too. Look at this, Moe's Dinner. Man, I've been there. They serve the best clam chowder. Fuck me, look at her on that board. KZ looks hot in that wetsuit, don't you think? Siuslaw High School? Bet you ten bucks that's in Florence."

I want to Goddamn punch Roman, but I don't, because he's right. He ignores the rage that must be vibrating from every line of my body. He does something with his phone and turns it to face me once more. "Look at this, she's on Twitter--I mean, X. I wonder if she's on Snapchat. Shit, she is. Nothing recent though. Look at this throwback Thursday." McKenzie's on her snowboard, and, fuck, her girls dared her to do the course without any pants. Is that a bathing suit or panties? "Man, I wonder if she got banned from Willamette Pass." I try to rip the phone from his hand but he anticipates my move. The girls are watching us now and I sure the fuck don't want McKenzie wandering over here so I knock Roman aside and rip the door of the Jeep open. I fire up the Wrangler but I'm not fast enough. Roman climbs in behind me. He leans over my seat's backrest and shoves his phone in my face.

"Here's a damning profile." The platform is CPUbytes, Cascade Pines University's own social media site. "She's at a game, wearing a jersey. I wonder who number fifteen is?" I go harder than the basalt pinnacle atop Mt. Thielsen. I stare because I want to brand that image on my brain but he scrolls away. "I mean, his name is right there, Kimball, on her shirt. Is there a Kimball on the team? Do you know a Kimball?"

"Okay, you've made your point," I growl. He has. I had multiple ways to contact McKenzie but I never thought to try. My chest compresses and I cringe inside. Maybe I was too ashamed to try. But, apparently, Roman can't help but heap more crap on my head.

"Is that the Sin Bin? It is. I recognize the bar--and our team. Oh, look, there's number fifteen." He scrolls through a whole lot of pictures. Many are of her and Ash or her sorority sisters but there's enough pics at the Sin Bin, victory parties or the arena that I know she's been hanging around the team. Roman stops his scrolling. I slam on the brakes. The whole Jeep rocks.

It's a picture of McKenzie. There's a fuck ton of snow on the ground. The picture is dated last February. She's at the bonfire glade. There're tears streaming down her face. My jersey is going up in a cloud of inky black smoke.

McKenzie had been ready to forgive me as recently as last Valentines. I think I might sick up.

I have force myself to get moving again. When I finally get my beat up Pathfinder out from behind the other cars, Ash insisted that McKenzie take shotgun. Even though she's been sitting beside me, talking to me, tutoring me, she doesn't seem to want to. She's no longer radiating her earlier joy and I think she may know Roman and I have been talking about her. Of course, maybe I'm just projecting, because looking at her is just a reminder of how shitty I've been to her. I was never McKenzie's BFF. I was her asshole.

I crank my SUV's old fashioned, keyed ignition as Ashley climbs in the back seat. I can't pull out though. Roman grabs her door before she can shut it.

"Move over."

"Why?" I can hear the question mark in Ashley's voice. I glance over my shoulder in time to see Roman roll his eyes.

"Because I'm going with you."

"Again, why?"

"I want to make a beer run."

"We're going to a dress fitting, dumbass. We'll be there for like an hour or more."

"Thus the beer."

"There's a perfectly good door over there." Ashley points to the rear, driver's side door.

"I'd rather sit behind KZ. More leg room. The air doesn't smell like Collin's tail pipe."

Ash undoes her seatbelt and slides. "Dick much?"

Roman climbs into the space she vacates. "Sit in my lap and find out."

"Ohmigod, perv alert." I'd agree with Ash but, I don't know how, somehow Roman gets away with that shit. Far too many chicks sit on his dick.

"So what are you going to do," Ash says. "Drink beer. Ogle McKenzie. I don't think your Captain will like that."

"Ashley!" Kenzie screeches. My fingers band about the steering wheel so tight they turn white.

"Nope. KZ is safe." She'd better be or, friend or not, Roman's a dead man.

Roman leans back and stretches his arm along the backrest. I'm looking in the mirror so I see Ashley vibrate but she doesn't lean away. Roman smirks. "I plan to ogle you."

Ash turns pink but the snap in her voice does not dull. "It's not my fitting."

"There'll be other dresses. You should try some on. Something sparkly. Maybe black. A body con. And short." He pauses a moment. "Fuck, I bet you rock an LBD." Ash no longer does it for me but I agree--Ashley would be fire in a little black dress. Roman's eyes glaze over. "Please, God, let the zipper get stuck."

A glower on her face, Ashley crosses her arms and this time she does lean away. Roman captures a golden curl and runs it through his fingers. Rather than ripping her locks out of his hand, Ash pretends not to notice. She huffs and the back seat falls silent. Roman leans back, the picture of conceited cockiness. About every third time I check the mirror, Ashley's giving him the side eye. I swear, in the encyclopedia, under the heading irate woman there's a picture of her. I wonder if I should say something. I don't give a fuck if I'd be throwing Roman off his game, but my gut says my interference wouldn't be welcomed... by Ash.

We arrive at Special Day Lace. Ashley tumbles out of the car before I've turned the engine off. Roman follows more slowly but McKenzie stays put.

"Is everything okay?" I don't know if she's going to answer. After what Roman showed me, I'm not even sure why she has deigned to speak with me these past few days. Her, "Go thefuck away, asshole," makes more sense than ever.

Kenzie leans her cheek up against the passenger side window. "I feel sick." Her voice is small. She does look kind of pale.

"Can I do something for you? Take you home? I can run down to the drug store. Get you a ginger ale?"

She looks at me, her eyes round. "Not that kind of sick." Her gaze drops to her lap. "I don't want to see him."

"Luke?" I ask.

McKenzie nods.

I glance around the parking lot. I don't recognize any of the other vehicles. "Is his car here?"

She shakes her head and then, hand trembling, she lets herself out. Ash and Roman are already inside. On the other side of the picture window he's holding up some body contouring red number and she's telling him off. I can tell. Her posture screams it.

He doesn't have a beer.

We didn't stop.

He didn't ask.

I think he's drunk--on her. At least he should be entertaining. Maybe he and Ashley would distract McKenzie from her fears.

Inside, McKenzie checks in with the seamstress. I hesitate but Kenzie asks me to come back with her. Ashley and Roman follow on our heels snipping at each other. I try not to fidget while McKenzie is in the changing room. I have zero desire to disrespect her, but, my God, the room has one of those like half door things and I can see her feet, the top of her head and sometimes her hands and the shadow cast while she strips. My dick hurts worse than when I walked into Sisters Exposed and she was on-stage. The door opens and I lose the ability to breathe.

I don't know what to call it. I suppose it's an evening dress. The skirt is floor length and pleated. The bodice reminds me of a silk toga except there's like this cloth collar looped around McKenzie's neck preventing everything from slipping off her shoulder. She does a slow turn and my heart stutters. Her back is completely bare. She can't be wearing a bra, or she's wearing an invisible one, because there are no straps. There's just this one strip of material, twisted into a rope, looped from her shoulder to her waist where it ends in a bow. The whole thing is lavender and when she turns back towards us the green in her questioning eyes just--pops.

"Ohmigod, McKenzie." Ash rushes forward to hug McKenzie. When she steps back to let the seamstress work she says, "You're so beautiful."

Beautiful doesn't say the half of it. My BFF, the girl whose heart I shredded, is the most stunning woman to have ever walked this Earth. Kenzie's gaze seeks mine, questioning.

"Nice," I croak. I can barely get the word out. Out front a bell rings. I hear voices but I can't make out the conversation.

Roman shoots me a glance that tells me that he thinks I've lost my mind. I probably have. "You're glorious, KZ."

Ashley cocks her head at him. Her expression goes soft.

"Now if your friend here would just try on that backless mini dress I saw--"

"Ro, stop it. Just stop it." Ashley's mezzo soprano sounds strained. "You're worse than a Chihuahua."

Roman turns to me. "I'm more a Doberman than a Chihuahua, don't you think?"

"Ugh!" Ashley throws up her hands and stomps away. "I don't care what type of dog you are, you're sniffing at my butt and I don't like it."

"Well, shit. I didn't mean to piss her off." He actually looks put out as she stomps from the room. McKenzie fidgets like she wants to run after Ashley but the seamstress is busy with the hem of her dress and she's stuck.

"Well, you did, dumbass." I was glad I wasn't the only one. I wondered if dumbassery was a contagious disease only contractible by the males of a species.

Ashley comes hurrying back, concern written across her face. "McKenzie..." Her voice is a squeak. There's fear in her tone and I know what's coming--Luke.

Roman and I turn. We're a team. Shoulder to shoulder we make a wall. Luke comes around the corner, a tux-bag in hand.

"McKenzie, we need to talk." he says so loud the extremely tolerant seamstress jumps. I half expect her to scurry away like a mouse. "My family--your family--is expecting you to be on my arm. I can't be seen with a slut. You need to cancel your cam show!"

Cam show? As in cam girl porn? Like one of those internet rooms where a girl gives the audience control of a vibrator through the use of a tip taking app so that they can pay for the privilege of participating in her pleasure? Yes, she stripped. I still see her bare-assed naked every time I close my eyes. Still, I would've never guessed McKenzie to be a cam girl had we played a hundred-and-twenty questions.

But the way she's looking at me. The way she's twisting her hands. The mortification I see on her face. McKenzie didn't want me knowing this. She didn't want anyone knowing this.

Which means it's true. But that doesn't matter. I don't care about how she pays the bills. I'm here for McKenzie.

I step between Kenzie and Luke. "This is a private fitting," I growl. I try to keep things civil. I try not to make fists of my hands. I fail and my biceps tense. Roman puts a hand on Luke's chest preventing him from moving any closer. That's good. I need that. Because if I touched him I'm not sure I wouldn't kill the fucker.

"Let me past," Luke snaps at Ro. "She's my girlfriend." He points at McKenzie and I want to take his finger and break it.

I step up in Luke's face. "Not anymore." My words are a mastiff bark. I'm trembling with the effort to keep from punching him.

"What Cap said," Roman adds with dramatically less fire in his voice.

"She's a slut! @EmzyStreams--" A sobbed gasp, in Kenzie's voice, sounds from behind me. "--that's McKenzie, she's a fucking slut! She needs to close that room forever and apologize to me now!"

Fuck that. Roman and I are a team. We toss him outside and bar the door. I don't think the seamstress wants to see any of us ever again.

Glorious Woman

Collin

I dump the puck. Silas picks it up and passes it to Lucas who slingshots around the back side of the crease and fires it back to me. I take the shot.

Rejected. Michigan's goalie, Baker, might be as good as O'Brey.

"Shoot your wad, Kimball?" Lankslee guffaws. He's Michigan's goon and he's been on my nerves all night. I shouldn't let him get to me. His words shouldn't mean anything. It's not personal. It's his job. My job is to ignore him.

But I entered today's game in a foul mood. It's been two weeks since McKenzie's dress fitting. There's one more game filled weekend before Salene's wedding and I have no clue how I am going to protect McKenzie from Luke. I mean, I could snap the twit like a twig, but I can't stop him from speaking. Roman and I had been able to use our bodies to block Luke's physical access to McKenzie during her dress fitting but not his words. The closer the wedding gets, the more subdued she becomes. I wish I had shattered the fucker's jaw in the club so some doctor would have to wire his mouth shut.

Silas has the puck again so I fake left and dodge right. At this low elevation the air is heavy, so the extra oxygen it's like nitrous in my blood. I leave Lankslee in the glitter kicked up by my skates. I'm fucking fast. Silas sends me the puck and I launch a wrist rocket.

Baker just barely manages to touch the puck. It flies off course and pings off the post.

"Bet your girl doesn't even have to service you. She just takes it off and you come."

Fuckin' Lankslee. I carve a hard line an inch from the wall. I hear a satisfying bang as Lankslee bounces off the boards. Silas tries to pass but Harding picks it up. We race for the blue line. Harding shoots it to forty-three--Henderson, I think--and arcs around behind our net. Forty-three sends it back to Harding but Roman gets his stick on it.

Bang! Chatter. Bang! Roman, the puck and forty-three all pile into the boards. They fight it out in the corner. Owen is there when the puck spits out. Owen slides it to me and I'm off. It's not a breakaway but there's nothing but Lankslee and Baker between me and the net. I fake left, fake right and then dodge right, but this time Lankslee is on to me. He snowplows me into the boards.

"Bet she just sends you pics while she services her online room."

My stick is on the ice. My gloves are off. I'm Achilles. Lankslee is Agamemnon. I'm seeing red. I deliver a one-two jab. My right arm is up against the Plexiglas so I pull back for a left hook.

Lucas collars my bicep, dragging me back. Nate, one of our senior players, stiff arms his palms between mine and Lankslee's chests. When I try to punch past Nate, Roman joins the fray.

The ref arrives and for the first time ever, I'm ejected from a game. I'm seeing red. I'm still fired up. Lankslee dissed my girl. He slandered my BFF. I want to kill him.

The ref reads me the riot act and the fight goes out of me. Roman pushes me towards the exit. "What the fuck, Cap?" He skates with me, hands on my shoulders to the tunnel. I don't answer. Not daring to look at my team, I slip on my blade guards and stumble down the tunnel. I can feel Coach Wilson's eyes burning a hole in the back of my helmet.

In the locker room, I take a cold shower because my blood still feels like molten lava. The shower does little but make me feel like shit. I've let my team down. I've let me down. This was exactly why I didn't want a girlfriend, and Kenzie isn't even my girlfriend. Face in hands, I chill on the bench listening to the announcer before suiting up in my post game attire. I leave the sports jacket off because it's humid in here and I'm still steaming.

We lose. Michigan gets two goals while I'm fucking stuck back here. I come to my feet as the guys pile out of the tunnel. No one is happy, there's lots of angry looks, but I get a few nods of solidarity. I think. Mostly from the first line. Coach follows them out. I am not looking forward to the reaming I'm about to receive.

"Kimball! Office. Now!" He slams the door of the little shoe box office attached to the away team's locker room in my wake.

"What the hell was that?"

Remember how I said Couch Wilson's indoor voice was ten decibels louder than everyone else? Well, his shout is twenty decibels louder. It's like a thunderclap in a confined space. My ears are ringing and I'm not sure I'll be able to hear after that sonic assault. I think the door rattles, but I can't be sure, because I can't hear anything but Coach Wilson's voice.

"I'm sorry, sir. I lost control." That was true because I have no control when it comes to McKenzie.

"Was it about a girl?"

I nod, because what can I say?

He takes a sharp step left and then another right, like he wants to pace, but there's not enough room in this closet of an office. "Fucking women." He takes off his ball cap, drags a clawed hand through his graying hair and then hurls his cap on the desk. "Listen to me, Collin, and listen to me good. It's always about a woman! If it's not your mother, it's your sister. If it's not your sister, it's your girlfriend. If it's not your girlfriend, it's your wife. If it's not your wife, it's your daughter." He jabs a stiff armed finger towards the arena. "It's trash talk!" He glares at me. "Someone has screwed your Mom. Somehow that's your fault! Someone has disparaged your sister. You didn't protect her! Your girlfriend is a slut. You can't keep her interest! Your wife cheated on you. You're not enough! Your daughter's pregnant. You didn't keep her in line. You're attracted to any woman not yours anywhere. Don't feel it, dammit! How many times have you been told that if something goes wrong with your relationship with a woman is your fault?"

More times than I can count. Fuck, there are songs about that.

"Catch my drift? If she's a woman, and you're a man, you've been shamed. It's a wound we all have! An easy target. A guaranteed hit. When someone trash talks you they always go for your woman because it's where every last one of us idiots is weakest! You need to be aware of that and not let it get to you!"

"I'm sorry, sir. He was dissing my best friend. I've known her forever, since we were, like, four. He said some pretty nasty shit."

"Are you sure? How does Lankslee know this best friend?"

Coach said best friend like he didn't really believe McKenzie is my BFF, but she is. She's known me longer and better than anyone but my dad. However, his question is valid. How would Lankslee know? I mean, Kenzie does have her cam show. I think. I refuse to look. Because she was embarrassed and I wont to do that to my BFF. I assume @EmzyStreams is broadcast worldwide, but there's so many girls doing that, singling out one would well-nigh be impossible. Even if he has jacked off to McKenzie's image there's no way he could know she and I are friends. The thought of Lankslee jacking off to Kenzie replaces my blood with chlorine gas.

"I don't know." My voice sounds normal. I don't know how. I feel like I'm being strangled.

"Ever considered that Lankslee might've gotten fucking lucky and you made it about your girl? Do you think maybe he was just stringing nasty ideas together and you applied them to your so-called friend?"

I don't like where this is going. Coach bulldozes on.

"Are you sure you're not the one who decided your girl is a skank or a slut or whatever other nasty thing Lankslee might've said? Because I guarantee you, you wouldn't have reacted that way if you didn't think it was true."

Fuck me. Coach is right. If shame was water, I'd be drowning in the Pacific Ocean. Not that you can hear me, because you're not here, and I'm talking in my head, but I'm so fucking sorry McKenzie.

"You want some advice, Kimball?" His voice had dropped to his normal volume, which makes it like ninety decibels.

I suspect I don't have a choice, but that's okay. I need advice. I have to force myself to speak. It feels like someone filled my lungs with asphalt. "Sure, Coach." The words come out on a gravely cough.

"Don't listen to that shit. In any situation. Ever! If you really knew your girl, if you were really her friend, if you really loved her, you'd know there are no words, no actions, nothing that can take anything away from the wonderful, glorious being that she is."

Rehearsal

McKenzie

My life is a nightmare. Please, please, please let me wake up.

The villain of my nightmare is Luke, and he's right over there, on the groom's side, facing off with my older sister Heather. We're at rehearsal. He's staring at me like he has X-ray vision and can see the wet spot in my panties. He can't, because I'm wearing jeans, and I freaking checked when Collin and I arrived.

However my nightmare is Collin's dream and he's living it. The moment we stepped through the doors he was greeted like a prodigal son. It's a family reunion. He and my family. Even my mother said it was nice to see him--really? Luke keeps saying he shouldn't be here because he's not part of the wedding party, but it's the bride's party and the bride was the first one to hug him when we arrived.

And, of course, all my sisters hugged him. April hugged him twice. I'm not jealous or anything--I'm not. My brothers are broing with him over surf boards and hockey. That I am jealous of. Why do they all get to be over there talking about fun stuff while I'm stuck over here pretending that I'm not totally freaking out about Luke standing right over there? April's hangs with Collin every time she gets a break from bridesmaid duties. I think she has a crush. Unlike me. Just ask my wet spot. The spot that is now like ew. The wet spot happened three seconds after I climbed into Collin's Pathfinder this morning. Ew happened the moment I laid eyes on Luke.

I so wish we'd had a chance to stop and change.

But it's nearly four hours from Pining to Florence. It took us six. We got an early snow on the Santiam Pass and it, like, dumped--a lot. We had to skip out of class early and Collin was assigned three hours of game reel review for bailing on practice. He says I have to watch it with him. I'm not sure I can do that. Not in one sitting. On the way over, I nearly self-combusted. Thank God I get car sick, Highway-126 is windy and Collin drives like he's trying to win the Indy-500. Even car sick, my girly bits were so wound up I nearly made a bigger mess in my panties when we stopped for gas and the seat belt alarm went off. Fucking Pavlov.

Of course it wouldn't have been nearly so bad if Collin wasn't hot. H. O. T. hot! I know. I had to sit with him, listen to his laugh, smell his man scent and look at his ripped bod for six hours in a confined space while he did everything in his power to distract me from the impending shit show that is now standing across from Heather on the groom's side. How does Collin look so good? It's not fair. I feel bloated from the roadside grease-burger he bought me for lunch and frumpy from six hours in his Pathfinder.

I rip my eyes off of the boy that broke my heart and turn back to my groomsman "date." His name is Gordon, or Gorge, or Jordy or something like that. He's one of Luke's cousins and I don't really have a problem with him except that he's shorter than I am, portly, smells like a McDonald's fryer and looks a bit like a baby Teddy Roosevelt--without the chops and mustache. The wedding pictures are going to look weird, especially when I put on heels. He talks non-stop about fishing--on the McKenzie River. I don't think he's really talking about fish or the river.

I tune him out and try to focus on the rehearsal. The venue is modest, but gorgeous. Councilwoman Stromberg wanted the wedding to be someplace ritzy and much, much bigger. I think she wanted to do the wedding in Salem where, like, all of Congress could attend but Dad couldn't've afforded that in a million years.

Councilwoman Stromberg, of course, offered to pay, but Dad wanted to do right by his daughter. Salene, Heather, April and I are all daddy's girls and so--guess what--what he wants we want. We want to make him happy, because he makes us happy. Salene put her foot down and here we are in an absolutely beautiful A-frame retreat overlooking Woahink Lake. The owners are letting Dad use it free of charge because people love him and actually want to do him favors. I wouldn't have been surprised if there had been a bidding war to see who could give Dad the better free space.

The planner, who is on Councilwoman Stromberg's bankroll, tells us it's a wrap. God, at last. This nightmare is about to end and the next about to start. But one down, ten or so to go. I make like a bullet straight for Collin's side.

"McKenzie?" I ignore Luke, make a snow plow with my hands and I push right between my brothers. April's like two steps behind me and when I tuck myself up next to Col, she mumbles something profane, turns pink and retreats. I feel bad because she's obviously into him while I'm not. Am I in denial? Probably. Even when I hated Collin I was in love with him. But I don't want to think about that, I just need my bodyguard right now. I mean, I could face Luke, but I don't want to. This is, like, half the reason I brought Collin in the first place. I pray to God we don't run into the other reason I brought him.

"Listen up everyone!" the planner shouts over the hubbub of conversation. "Dinner's at the Waterfront Depot. We're running late so let's head straight there. They're holding our tables but they're doing us a favor so let's not put them out any more than we can help it." She shoos us towards the door.

"Kenzie, ride with me. We need to talk."

I strangle a sigh. Luke's like a Jedi. I didn't see him sneak up. Collin cocks a brow at me but doesn't say anything. I can read the question in his eyes. Do I want him to say something? Do I want to handle this on my own? Do I want to ride with Luke? Like that's a question. Like there's zero contest, I'm riding with Collin, but he's leaving how I want to handle Luke up to me. He's letting me make my own choice. That's like--wow. That's never happened to me before. I remember this one time in high school where these two guys were offering me a lift after a homecoming dance. They'd grabbed my arms and tug-o-wared me. Needless to say, they both lost. I'd hitched a ride home with my older sister's girls.

My brother, Kevin, strides up to us. He's a handful of years older than me and between Salene and Mark. "Hey, sis." He claps a hand on Collin's shoulder. "Thanks for bringing this blockhead. It's good to see you two together again."

I sputter. "We're not--"

"She's with me!" Luke snarls. "You know that, Kev." Kevin never liked Luke. He didn't think Luke was good enough for me. I thought he was being all big-brother on me because he's okay with Salene's fiancé, Brian. Why is hindsight twenty-twenty? Because, now, I agree.

Collin doesn't say anything. He just puts his hands in his pockets. His expression looks nonchalant but from the strained bulges in his jeans I think his hands might be curled into fists. I back myself into Collin, the back of my head bumps his chin. He's definitely not as nonchalant as he's putting on. My back is against his chest and I can feel the stiffness in the stilted cycling of his breath.

"We're not together, Luke. I ended it by the lake." You know, when you gave me that shout out to the entire student body. I don't say that. I'm not sure what my body language is broadcasting but the whole room seems to pick up on my unhappy vibe.

"Is everything okay?" Salene says, joining the party. "Oh, hey, Col. I'm going to be busy but I hope we can carve out a few minutes to catch up. It's been a moment." Brian steps up and puts his arm around Salene. She melts into him. Brian scans the group, his gaze lingering on Luke, Collin and I.

"Hey, bro," he says and nods towards the street. "We ought to get on the road. Todd and Hazlee--" That's my parents, "--went through a lot of trouble to set this up. Heard Waterfront's buyer picked up extra crab and halibut at the docks this morning prepping for us."

Heather strides up. She's dragging her fiancé Logan and in her wake. I'm actually not sure who wears the pants in that relationship because while Heather is an alpha type, so is Logan. "Hey, what's going on?" Heather looks from me, to Collin, to Luke. My brothers, Mark and Toney, tag along behind them, because of course I'm not allowed to be humiliated one family member at a time. My only siblings missing now are Andre and April. The oldest and youngest. Andre couldn't make it. He's up in Seattle. His wife is about to deliver their second baby.

"I was just offering a ride to my girlfriend."

"Ohmigod. I am not your girlfriend! We. Broke. Up." Could this guy, like, clean the wax from his ears? At this point ear wax is like his only excuse for not hearing me.

"Since when?" six voices exclaim at once because of course Mother, Dad and April join us right as I'm airing my dirty laundry. The only people who don't react are Collin, Brian and Kevin. Luke's face turns red. Dad's posture softens, like he just pulled out a splinter that pained him. Had everyone seen the jackass that my boyfriend--ex-boyfriend--was but me?

"Logan, keys," Heather holds out her hand, palm up in front of her man. "Catch a ride with Mom and Dad. I need girl time with my sister."

I cock my head to look up at Collin. He's right behind me so it's kind of a weird angle. I want to go with Heather, but, well, he gave me the courtesy of a choice so it's only fair I do the same. A lopsided grin carves one dimple in his left cheek.

He swings his head towards Heather. "Go get your girl on."

Heather pats Collin on the shoulder. She lobs a shit eating grin at her fiancé. "Now here's a man who knows how to treat a lady. Think he could learn you?" Logan's hand engulfs Heather's as he hands her his keys. She yelps when he yanks her in for a kiss. She's pink and flustered and, if I'm not wrong, weak kneed when he releases her.

"I don't think I'm doing half bad." Logan's voice is low, rumbly and even I get the shivers. His surfer dude good looks have probably melted the panties off of every unattached woman he has ever met.

Heather fans her cleavage. "Oh... I... um."

Collin claps a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Logan is it? I've got a ride. Let me give you a lift." They go off together and I have the feeling that they're going to be best buddies before they arrive at the Waterfront Depot--which is like fifteen minutes from here--tops.

Heather leads me to Logan's truck. It's a Subaru Baja and doesn't look like it should be street legal. There's a board rack in back and spot lights. I spin around in front of my sister, blocking her path. "Ohmigod, Heather! Can we take it out to the dunes? No one will notice if we're late." Or don't show at all. I don't actually believe that but I so want it to be true. I press my hands together, bounce on my toes and plead. "Please. Please. Please!" Joy riding sounds so much more fun than dinner with Luke.

Heather glances towards Collin's Pathfinder and her man inside. "I don't know." She says the words, like she wants to but she's not sure.

"When have you ever asked for permission?" The answer is never--as in never ever. My sister is a do-first-ask-for-forgiveness-if-caught kind of girl.

She scrubs a hand through her hair. Our long haired, curtain bangs styles are similar but hers is more milk chocolate whereas mine is burnt cocoa bean.

Heather leans into my ear. "I... um... kind of jacked the suspension last week. It was after the bachelorette bonfire party you missed and neither Salene nor I should have been driving... even on the dunes. Logan just got it back together this morning."

"You're no fun." I pout.

Heather waves me towards the truck. "I'm the older sister. It happens. Besides, I know what you are really doing." She's older by sixteen months. I think maybe the only time Mother was ever pleasant was when she was pregnant, so Dad kept her pregnant. A lot. Anyhow, when we were kids people mistook Heather and I for twins. So, yeah, kind of crappy she's playing the older sister card. I mean like, come on!

I climb into the passenger side of Logan's sweet, sweet ride. "And what am I doing?"

"Stalling."

Shit.

"Wait! I'm coming too!" April hops into the seat behind Heather. On the lawn, Salene is looking between me and her man, clearly torn. I catch her gaze and shake my head. Two sisters is going to be a lot. Three might be too much.

Heather fires up the truck and pulls out. The suspension is so dune buggy I feel like the whole car might bounce if I put on some tunes and bopped to the beat. Once we're on our way Heather says, "Spill."

I bite my bottom lip and twist my hands in my lap. "Spill what?" I know exactly what she wants me to spill. I've been dreading this moment for weeks. I don't want my sisters to know I was so desperate for cash that I resorted to stripping. But they're my sisters. I also don't want them to not know. I just need to feel confident they're not going to freak on me, you know. I need them to keep loving me.

"You and Luke."

"We broke up."

"I got that. Not that I object, but why? Is it just because Collin's in the picture again? I approve, you know, but it feels like something else is going on. Is something else going on?"

A desperate clawing emotion tries to crawl its way out of my throat. I have no idea how I've kept this from Heather so long. April, yes, she's younger, Heather no. More than Ash, more than Collin when we were kids, Heather is my person. I spill. Everything--including the plug in my butt when Mother called. My story comes out as an incoherent babble that starts in the middle and races headlong to the beginning. We're northbound on Highway-101 when I'm done.

"Mother cut you off?"

That's her question? That's what she got out of all that? I'm not complaining, because it's awesome she's not slut shaming me about the other shit. Not that I expect her to slut shame. Just, maybe a little? I cringe at my own internal monolog.

"Yes." My voice is small. I'm looking at the ceiling because we're like two minutes from Waterfront. I can only do this once today so I don't need everyone to see that I'm like one heartless word from bawling like a baby.

The Baja jukes into the left turn lane, taking me by surprise. Heather rolls the wheel and we cut across 101's traffic so close a horn sounds. As we round the turn onto Sand Dunes Road the whole truck leans like it went up on two wheels but that's probably just its insane suspension. This kind of driving should make me sick but I spent my childhood in the snow and my high school years in the surf or the sand. Hard leans, three point turns and flying through the air punches me right in the fun. Heather hits a speed bump but the truck is so bouncy it acts like it's not even there. The brakes lock up as Heather swerves into a sandy pullout surrounded by windswept pine trees. You know, lodgepole pines that have had all their branches blown off except the ones at the very top. It kind of makes them look like weird, conifer palm trees. I'm pretty sure we left rubber on the road.

"McKenzie, look at me!" Heather has ripped off her seatbelt and turned towards me. I force my eyes to meet hers. But I can't really focus. My contacts might've floated out because Heather's all blurry.

"I love you."

She pulls me into the center console and wraps her arms around me.

April practically climbs over the backrest and joins the hug. "I love you, too."

Oh shit. I don't think I can stop the tears and my emergency kit is in my purse--in Collin's Pathfinder.

We cling. And, yup, queue the waterworks. I don't want to let go--ever. But of course the Baja is a manual. A modern automatic is faster when going through the paces but a stick is just so frigging fun. Unfortunately, the aforementioned stick digs into my thigh. After a few minutes it's too painful to ignore. I have to wiggle out of my sisters' arms. I don't want to. I love them so, so much.

When we pull apart we are wiping tears. Heather angles the rearview mirror and lets out a wet laugh. Fortunately, when it comes to makeup, my sisters have me covered. We chat while we're fixing ourselves. Heather tells me in no uncertain terms that I am to never again keep shit from her when I'm in trouble. I'm not sure I'll keep that promise, but I get it. She can't help if she doesn't know. She doesn't care what I've done. She doesn't care what I do. She just cares that I feel loved.

And I do. I really, really do. Every girl needs sisters like Heather and April. Salene too.

"Ready?"

I smile at them. They smile at me. Heather puts the truck in first. The dunes are right there.

After Party

Collin

McKenzie and her missing sisters arrive nearly an hour after dinner has started. They're trailing smiles, windblown hair and sand in their wake. They're too late to order but that doesn't seem to bother Kenzie. She just relocates down to the end of the table by me and begins picking food off my plate until I just shove it in front of her. When it comes time to leave, we congregate in the parking lot.

"Let's take the after party to The Salty Dog," Heather says. She and Logan have joined Kev, Mark, Toney, Kenzie and I.

"Awe... I want to go."

I hadn't noticed April sneak up beside me. I have to assume minors are excluded from The Salty Dog and neither she nor Toney would be old enough to enter.

A compassionate expression crosses Heather's face. "Do you have another idea?"

"We could do a bonfire out South Jetty Beach," Toney suggests.

We all look west. We can't actually see the Pacific from our location but the vast expanse of flat tells us where it is. It's dark, but an occasional flash lights up the clouds crawling in from the horizon. I'm not a coast man but even I can tell it is going to be pouring in under ten minutes.

Kevin says, "That is going to be a 'no.' Sorry, kiddos."

"God, nineteen sucks." Toney shoves his hands in his pockets and wanders towards McKenzie's parents. I smother a grin. I agree. I remember nineteen. Twenty was almost worse, but it's all hype anyway. Now that I can hit the suds, legally, it's not nearly as fun.

"I never get to do anything fun," April whines. She makes a face. She's got princess pout down pat.

"Really?" Logan deadpans. "So you weren't there when your sisters took my truck for a joy ride?"

"Nope. Neither time." April starts to flounce away but pauses beside Heather. "It's more fun when McKenzie drives." She sticks out her tongue and runs. "Dad, wait for me! I'm coming with you!"

McKenzie laughs quietly. "God, that girl. Was I like that?"

"Yes," Heather, Mark and Kev all say in unison. I would have liked to have seen McKenzie behave like a brat. Hanging out with Kenzie's family has made me realize just how much I missed--and how much I wish I hadn't.

"I wasn't that bad--" McKenzie's gaze bounces between her siblings. "--really?"

"You and Heather both," Mark grumbles.

"What can I say, you learned from the best. Come on." Heather makes a sweeping motion with her arm. "The bar is only at the end of the street, Col, but you'll want to drive. You won't want to walk back in that."

I agree. The wind has picked up. I suspect in a few minutes walking any distance without shelter would be akin to taking a dunk in the river.

"I'll ride with Col," McKenzie says.

There's a hitch in Heather's smile and her eyes flit to me. The sparkle in her eyes is like cold, hard, glass cutting diamond. I wonder if I'm due for a sisterly lecture. I wonder when Kevin's going to hit me up, because, yeah, I saw the dark looks he shot me while McKenzie was stealing food from my plate. I can handle Kev. I can handle Kev and Mark together, but Heather? There's a lot of sand out there and they might never find my body.

McKenzie and I arrive only a minute behind Heather, Logan, Mark and Kev. Someone must've shot Salene and Brian the memo because they're here too. It's fortunate that we arrived when we did. The Salty Dog is right on the docks. It's not loud, but it's the kind of place you might go for a hurricane party. It's packed and only becomes more-so when the rain crashes down. Kenzie's siblings snag the last available booth. McKenzie and I literally sprint the fifty yards from my Pathfinder to the portico and we're still soaking wet.

McKenzie trails water as she worms her way through the crowd towards her family. Salene stops me before I can join her.

"Hey, Col, got a moment?"

"Sure" I have an uncomfortable feeling I know what's coming.

Salene takes a sip of her beer and eyes me over the top of her longneck. It's a local microbrew that I'm not familiar with.

"What's up with you and McKenzie?"

I shrug, not because I don't know how to answer, but because I'm fucking uncomfortable. I run a hand over my sopping hair. "I... uh... we're just friends."

"Huh" Glancing towards the booth, she bites her lip. When her gaze returns to me she says, "Really? What do you do as just friends?"

"Well, she's tutoring me in our statistics class. I'm, well, she wanted me to... you know... because she broke up with Luke and he's here."

"You hurt her, Col--bad."

I know that. God, I know that. I say as much.

"Life happens, Collin. We hurt people, even when we're trying not to. Don't dick with her. Got that?"

Is the air conditioning broken? Because I'm sweating. You'd think I'd be a Popsicle after the Pacific deluge I just showered in. "I'll try not to."

Salene purses her lips while she considers me. "You do that. If you lead Kenzie on, I swear I'll fillet you with your own skates." Salene finger pokes my sternum. "I mean it. Don't fuck with her, Collin."

I gulp. Mamma Salene smiles. I crap my pants. Figuratively. She turns away and walks over and joins her man at the table. I'm slower to join the party.

Wet, I'm relegated to the edge of the booth. None of McKenzie's siblings and soon to be in-laws want to sit beside us. I don't blame them. Kenzie's sisters sit on their men's laps so that no one has to be subjected to our rain water runoff.

"Gotta love Oregon," Kenzie says. There's light in her eyes and she laughs when she smiles up at me. She's happy. I haven't seen her like that much lately. There's this pain right behind my sternum. A harried waitress swings by and the others order the same micro Salene was drinking so I try that too. It's not bad.

We chat about a bunch of nothing. We're having a good time. I cut myself off at one, because I've got to drive, but McKenzie keeps drinking. Heather's telling Kenzie this completely crazy bachelorette story--Salene keeps interrupting to dispute details--when Kevin's face goes flat. A moment later Heather's voice just stops--mid punchline. Mark growls. He actually growls. Logan raises a brow and that's when McKenzie turns white.

And I mean white. Her summer tan hasn't yet faded. She shouldn't've been able to turn that white. I feel her pawing around on the seat beside me until she finds my hand. She squeezes it so tight that for a moment I think she's trying to break it. I tear my gaze away from her and scan the crowd to try and find what has caused this reaction.

I have zero trouble finding him. He's our age. He's built like a linebacker. He might actually be a linebacker. He's wearing a green and yellow Gang Green U of O hoodie. His face is the same color as McKenzie's.

"McKenzie" Her name sounds like a croak.

"Back off, Codey" Kevin's voice is deadly. He's stuck between the girls and their men but he's vibrating like he wants to jump over the table. Kevin's no slouch but I don't think he can take this goliath by himself. Neither does Logan. He lifts Heather off his lap who is strangely silent about being sat in the puddle that's formed beside McKenzie.

"Can we please talk," the pastely giant says. I'd call him the Jolly Green Giant, because of the hoodie, but there is nothing jolly about him.

It looks like a nuclear conflagration in Mark's face. "If you ever speak to her again--"

"Stop, Mark--" Kenzie's voice breaks. "--just stop, okay."

"McKenzie, you don't have to deal with this dirt-bag." That's Kevin talking. The Neanderthal brows of said dirt-bag lower, but he doesn't otherwise respond.

"It's not his fault, Kev." There's color in McKenzie's face now--an angry color.

"Kenzie, it is his fault."

"I was there, you weren't."

"He should've known better!"

"And I shouldn't've? Because I'm a girl? What we did, we did together."

"If he was responsible--"

Goliath shifts. He looks uncomfortable. I mean, more uncomfortable. He opens his mouth to say something but doesn't get the chance.

"What about me! What if I'd been responsible? What about that? Kev, I need this. Codey needs this. We can't keep doing this or I'm never going to want to come home again! And neither will he. That's not fair. To either of us!" McKenzie is on fire. I can feel her heat blistering my broken hand.

"You almost died!"

"Yeah, shit happens, and Mother won't stop punishing me for it. I don't need you doing the same! I can't fix that, but I can fix this. At least I can try." McKenzie shoves me. "Let me out, Col!"

I have no idea what is going on. The way they're talking he's a boyfriend and he fucked her. Something howls within me crying for blood. I know that won't get me any sympathy but I can't let her go off with this asshole. "Kenzie."

"Remember what I asked you? Remember what I said I needed? Be my friend, Col, not my keeper!"

She said keeper like it's a four letter word. Fuck if that doesn't hit me right in the feels. McKenzie had asked me to stand beside her no matter what. I'd thought she'd been talking about Luke. Not daring to meet the fire in Kevin's eyes, I slide from the booth. McKenzie still has my hand and I'm surprised when she tugs me behind her. Goliath gives me a concerned stare.

McKenzie puts her hand on Goliath's chest. I think she's asking for a moment, but I've never wanted a sling more in my life.

"You--" Kenzie nailed my sternum with her index finger. "--don't get to listen in. I do need you to stand watch." She turned to the table. "My family has the best intentions. They've helped a lot. They love me. But it's my turn. I have to do this my way. Don't let them interfere."

Well fuck. Said family glares back at me. Mark and Kevin look like they want to feed me their fists. The light in the girls' eyes looks even deadlier. This must be how steel stock feels between hammer and anvil.

Not giving her family a backwards glance, McKenzie leads Codey out the back door onto the docks. I follow at a "safe" distance. Under the back awning she points at my feet and says, "stay," like I'm a dog. Right now, I'm a good dog, but watching Kenzie and Codey walk down the dock in the pouring rain just might've been the hardest thing I've ever done. She's hurting and it's killing me that I can't ease her pain. McKenzie's sisters join me. Kenzie and Codey stop under a light. They stay out there a long time. When McKenzie goes up on her toes and hugs the giant, I feel the tension cord in my neck. Both sisters pat me on the shoulder and go back inside. Codey goes one way, McKenzie comes back to me.

Her arms are clasped over her chest. She's shivering. She looks drowned. Under her raspberry lip gloss, her lips are blue. McKenzie gazes up at me and smiles a sad, sweet smile on trembling lips. I've never felt so messed up over a woman.

"Take me home, please."

The Wedding

Collin

I'm sat with Kenzie's family. I shouldn't have been, but they insisted. I'm on the outside end of the pew, Toney is to my right. The wall aisle is to my left. Beyond the glass wall, Woahink Lake sparkles in the sunlight. Surpassing the lake in beauty and glowing brighter than the sun, Salene stands before us reciting her vows.

I only have eyes for McKenzie. The lavender in her dress makes her jade eyes pop. Her dark hair is in some kind of braided updo. I can't help it. My gaze keeps tracing the delicate curve of her throat. The swell of her breasts. The shape of her ass. She looks elegant. And edible. And I know I shouldn't be this way for my BFF, but I'm harder than a rock.

I shouldn't, not with her family right here, but my eyes continue their perusal. Her shoulders. Her hips. Her thighs. Her hands.

My brow furrows. I wonder if she knows that the way she's twisting the stem of her bouquet could strangle a man. Something cold settles in my chest and I feel for her. I get it. Last night had been hard. Now she is standing across from another dickhead ex-boyfriend.

Codey's not a dickhead though, not in McKenzie's world. Shit, she'd treated him better than she'd treated me when we'd first run into each other at the beginning of the school year. I don't know what happened, nobody will tell me, but she defended him. After her little rainwater chat with him, I'd taken her to the house she'd lived in during her high school years. With six of her siblings home, there was no room. Andre never lived in this house, so while he's not here, there's not even a spare bed. Todd invites me to stay on the couch, but come morning, things were going to be chaos. I'd just be in the way. So I booked a room at Driftwood Shores.

I'm certain I got the better deal. I slept in a queen bed. I woke up to the sound of the surf. My morning workout included a run south to North Jetty, north to a cliff and back to the hotel. I estimate it was a ten mile round trip. It was a good thing that the air is richer at a quarter inch above sea level because, running in sand, I discovered muscles I didn't know I had.

Even now, hours later, they ache, all of them. I'm sure Coach would've required a second lap.

"You may kiss the bride."

Brian draws the woman that, as a kid, I sometimes thought of as mother into his arms and kisses the ever living daylights out of her. When he releases her, he's smug, she's flushed. They're both grinning ear to ear. On the drive to Florence, McKenzie had told me that Brian had confessed to being in the strip club. Salene had forgiven him. That defies my experience of women. Dad could never give Mom enough. Back in high school, Ash couldn't accept I wasn't cheating on her with Kenzie. God, to be loved so much that you are enough. McKenzie had also told me that Brian had not outed her so--respect man.

The procession starts. The bride and groom float by. Heather pairs off with Luke, thank fuck. Kenzie gets some guy that looks like a toad. April's "date" is this awkward, lanky guy that makes me think freshman in high school. Amongst the sisters, only Salene seems happy with her partner.

Having been seated with the bride's family, I had a front row view of the wedding. But I'm not in the procession with them, which means I'm amongst the last to exit the building. Reception tents are set up on the lawn. The sun is bright overhead and the tent walls have been rolled up but last night's deluge has left the grass damp and the soil a wet sponge. That's just the way it is in western Oregon--can't deal with a little wet, don't live here.

Of course, I don't live here. I live on the east side of the mountains. Many people think Oregon and rain are synonymous but nearly two thirds of the state could be classified as badlands or desert. I seek out McKenzie but there's a lot of people here. Not only is Todd Rivers a well-loved member of the community but Councilwoman Stromgberg has brought a mini-horde of political suck-ups on her coattails. A few of these recognize me as the first line center on Oregon's only Division One hockey team. Around the fourth time someone I don't know wants me to stop and chat I blow them off in favor of finding my BFF.

I find her. She's with the wedding party. Luke's with her and Heather. Kenzie's posture is stiffer than the basalt columns so common in the Oregon Cascades. Luke keeps trying to talk to her but, Heather, thank fuck, keeps interjecting herself between them. I grab two flutes from the champagne bar and stride over them.

"Brought you a drink," I say as I approach. Is it wishful thinking or did Kenzie's posture just soften?

"Thank you." McKenzie smiles at me and takes one of the champagne flutes from my hand. She steps away from Luke, and towards me. She takes a sip and smiles over the rim of her glass. My heart skips a beat. I want to touch her, put my hand on her back, but I don't know how she'll react. So I don't.

"Yes, thank you," Heather says. She takes the other flute. Her smile is more megalomaniac.

A chuckle rumbles in my chest. Heather is a dangerous woman. "You're welcome."

Luke levels his glare on me. His neck flushes an ugly color. The drink he brings to his lips is harder than champagne. "I can't believe you brought this asshole, Kenzie."

I hear the assault. He wants me to come at him but I've faced far worse on the ice. Fuck, two weeks ago I tried to punch out Lankslee. Coach is right. Luke's words are BS. I shoot Luke a dead stare and let his attack slide off me.

McKenzie steps closer to me and leans into my arm. "I like him." There's a softness in her voice and fuck me if I don't like her response. There's a lilac and rhododendron scent in her hair that makes me think sand, waves and surfboards.

"He punched me, McKenzie!"

McKenzie's standing too close for me to really see her face but I can feel the nerves radiate off her. She takes a sip of her champagne. She coughs a little. "He had his reasons."

Heather lays a hand on McKenzie's arm. "Hey, is that Bethany?" She goes up on her toes and raises her hand in a wave. I have no idea who she's waving at. No one waves back

"Who?" I hear the perplexed note in McKenzie's voice.

"Our cousin?"

"Oh yeah, Bethany. I haven't seen her in so long. We should go say, 'hi.'"

McKenzie's fingers trail over my sleeve as she leaves my side. I'm tempted to follow them, but then Luke might too. I stay behind to guard their retreat. McKenzie and Heather hadn't even gone in the direction Heather had been waving.

After they leave, Luke tries to threaten me with a lawsuit. I just shrug. I have Kenzie, a police report and a bouncer on my side. Luke knows it. Besides I heard once that those who bark rarely bite.

Dinner comes and goes. Toasts. The father-daughter dance. There's an open bar but Kenzie and I need to get back to campus alive so I don't touch it. Some people are getting drunk--mostly Councilwoman Stromberg's invitees. Luke's amongst them.

Things start to wind down. The bride and groom are about to jet. McKenzie has suggested that we change so we can get on the road right behind them. I agree. It'll be late when we get back to campus. Hopefully we can do the drive in under six hours this time.

I exit the Groom's change room with my garment bag draped over my forearm. It feels good to be back in my Rockports. My Cole Haan's might look good but they're murder on my feet. I zip up my North Face windbreaker as I leave the building. McKenzie's ahead of me. She's in blue jeans and an off the shoulder sweater. I swear that woman is fire. I envy the man that'll someday marry her.

Salene and Brian are headed to their car. It's frosted in whip cream and flower petals. I don't know who did it, but they're a real artist, because the cobalt Subaru looks like a wedding cake. McKenzie jogs to join the crowd of well-wishers. She worms through the crowd to hug her sister. One of the suits closest to the bride and groom staggers when McKenzie pushes past.

"Hey, watch it, slut." Liquor spills from Luke's cup. The way he staggered, he must be sloshed. It wasn't like he shouted, but everyone heard it. Silence crashes.

I drop my garment bag and leap for McKenzie. But where she wove through the crowd, I feel like I'm in a battle against Leonidas' 300. I'm pushing and shoving and I can't get to her fast enough.

"What?" Luke says. He turns in a drunken circle, a hand thrust out for balance. He staggers and I pray that he goes down. God does not hear me.

"You need to shut up," Brian growls. He lays a hand on Luke's shoulder, stabilizing him.

"Why? Because you're the good boy? Because Mother loves you best? What would your bride say if she knew you watched her sister strip?"

Salene gasps.

Luke throws off Brian's hand. He thrust his drink toward McKenzie. Liquor sloshes from his cup. "A real dick-tease this one."

McKenzie's shaking. Her jade eyes have gone wide. She does a slow-mo pirouette scanning the crowd for me--her father--I don't know who. Fear, despair, humiliation are written across her features. She's not wraith white like the night before, but this might be worse.

I'm only half way through the crowd when Heather and April converge on McKenzie. They are faster than I, more vicious. Shit, I wonder why the PWHL isn't a bigger thing. I finally break free of the crowd. The girls part for me. Kenzie throws herself at me. I do the only thing I can. I band my arms about her as she burrows her face into my chest.

"Puck boy to the rescue." Luke takes a staggering step towards me but he has no balance and rocks back. He misses the curb and falls against the bride and groom's cake car. He slips and a huge swath of whipped cream sloughs off into the gutter. "Hey, puck boy, fuck boy. I wonder if he puts it in her ass?"

"You need to shut up!" Brian grabs Luke by the lapels of his jacket and yanks him away from the car. "She's my sister now. Another word and, brother or not, I swear I'll knock your head clean off."

"What? Come on bro. You haven't checked it out? @EmzyStreams? You should. I didn't know they made dildos that big and she can get it in her butt."

A choked shriek issues from somewhere in proximity of my pecs. I want to murder the fucker causing Kenzie this pain but she won't let me go and I can't release her. It's like I'm welded to her. I just can't.

"Brian?" Salene whispers. If she was asking Brian to shut Luke up, she needn't have bothered. Brian's already reared back. His fist collides with Luke's jaw. Luke spins. Liquor flies. He face-plants on the Subaru, slides and lands in the gutter. An avalanche of whipped cream buries him.

Heather rounds on me. "Collin, go. Get her out of here. Before someone--"

"McKenzie Rivers! It is you. @EmzyStreams!" that toad-like, groomsman date of hers shouts.

McKenzie's knuckles whiten where she fists my jacket. She's trembling. "No. No. No. Please, no."

Kenzie's siblings, brothers and sisters, close about us, a united front.

"I always knew you were a slut!" Hazlee tries to pry her way past Heather and April but Kevin shifts to back them up.

"Enough!" The word is a roar. It rolls over us like a thunder clap. It's Todd. I've never heard him raise his voice before. Coach Wilson would be envious.

"No Todd, I will not shut up. McKenzie is a blemish on our family. Everything's her fault! She's a whore!"

"She's our daughter, Hazlee. Your kids deserve your love!" Todd is such a calm, peaceful, easy going man it's a shock to hear the anger he levels on his wife.

Heather leans into my ear. "Go, now."

I feel like a coward, but McKenzie has climbed into my arms. All I have to do is run. I run.

Kiss Me Avalanche

McKenzie

My sister's wedding had been a cluster. I mean, the wedding was beautiful. My sister was radiant. Between Mother, Luke and my run in with Codey, the father of my miscarried babies, I felt like my heart had been put through the wringer. I feel so guilty. I shouldn't have gone. I ruined Salene's special day. The only bright spot had been Collin. It wasn't just nice that he had been there, but soul-saving. I glance at him over in the driver's seat and my bruised heart just expands--like, whoosh.

Because the emotions are just too vulnerable to share, I turn to the view outside. We've just crested the top of Santiam pass. It's night. The rain is like a wall. Dirty snow piled on the side of the road after Friday's storm, flashes by in half seen, wraith like drifts. The everywhere pines are virtually invisible.

An over eager driver races past us just as the passing lane ends. Water slams into the Pathfinder's windshield like the Pacific surf and drowns out Queen on the stereo. Twin points of red zig-zag as the driver hydroplanes.

"Fuck"

It's the first word spoken in more than an hour. Even I, as the passenger, can feel the slip as Collin tries to brake. The car in front of us stabilizes and zips away from us. I let out my breath. I turn back to the night shrouded, rain washed view out the passenger window. Somewhere out there, Mt. Washington pierces the sky. South of it are The Three Sisters, Pining and Cascade Pines University--home. I love the coast but after this, I might never go back. I'm ready to be home.

Silence descends on our little bubble of road noise and rainwater roar. Queen's Somebody to Love Me cycles onto the stereo's playlist. We drop elevation rapidly and my ears pop. The road grade levels a little, Collin slows and we take a right that I would've missed in this light. The road is narrow, twists like crazy and still has patches of slush left over from the prior storm. Collin slows more, but even at a crawl, it's a shortcut to the scenic McKenzie Pass Highway and, ultimately, Looking Glass Highway.

"Collin, what's your worst memory?" My worst memory is the miscarriage. This past weekend might be second place. That night at Sister's Exposed is right up there too. I cringe at the thought that had things been a little bit different, Collin wouldn't have been there.

Collin glances my way. "What brought that on?"

"This weekend."

He's silent a long time. I'm not sure he's going to answer.

"I don't know if this counts. I don't remember it all that well." He falls silent again. Outside, the rain has let up a little. On my side of the car there's some no-name cinder-cone hill blotting out the sky. It startles me when he says, "Launna leaving."

Launna was his mom. We'd been six. I still remembered. Flashes at least. I remembered holding him as he cried. I remembered being allowed to sleep on the floor of his room so I could hug him when he had nightmares. I remember his seventh birthday, how he tried to pretend he was having fun. I don't actually remember his mom. She was just another pair of knees.

Collin had changed after that. He stopped playing with girls--except me. I know boys will be boys, but he had liked girls, even then. Then he didn't. It was so sudden. I was scrappy. But I was also a girl's-girl. At least I tried to be. Heather was a girl's-girl and I wanted to be her. But suddenly I had to choose. Play with Collin? Play with my girl friends? It confused me. I'd asked why.

He'd said he didn't trust girls.

I'd said I was a girl

He'd said I didn't count. He'd said I wasn't really a girl.

That night I'd asked Salene if I was a girl. When she'd said, "yes," I'd asked how I could tell. I mean, I knew the answer. I was six--not three. But now I wonder if me not being a girl was why I could never get him to kiss me.

I turn my gaze to the man that had spent the last two days behaving like the best friend a girl could have--because, yes, I am a girl. My ego cautions me, but Collin was present for me. My heart was ready to trust again even if the man I'm trusting doesn't yet know he can trust me. I angle my body towards him.

"Thank you," I say. It's good to know we're not alone. It's good to know we can live through our pain. Collin's left wounds. Mine did too. Maybe someday we'll both heal. Maybe we'll help each other heal. Maybe we won't, but we'll live. I hope we live together--forever. I want this man, as my man.

His gaze flicks to me, but he can't afford to take his attention off the road. He looks relaxed but I know I'd be tenser than hamstrings during a forward fold in these driving conditions.

"For what?"

"For sharing. For being there for me."

He cocked a smile my way. It's a pained smile. I think he hurts for me. My heart softens even more. That's when I hear the roar. It's like a jet engine bearing down on us.

"Collin?"

Snow, volcanic cinder and uprooted trees flow like a tsunami across the road in front of us. The seatbelt arrests my flight into the dash as Collin stands on the breaks. The rising tide spreads. Collin slams the Pathfinder in reverse. A broken pine passes through the space we just vacated. Dirty snow flows around the SUV's wheels. The engine whines as Collin pushes the gears to their limits.

"Collin!" I scream. Another wave has piled across the road behind us. The Pathfinder slips driver's side. The tide is rising and it looks like the flow has reached the running board. I can't see them but it feels like my eyes must be half-dollar round. The car wobbles and lifts. We're floating--right into the pines on the far side of the road.

The engine compartment hits a tree. I'm thrown against my seat belt. The trunk rams into something, probably another tree. I'm thrown the other way. There's a sharp knock and a dazing pain as my skull slams into the passenger window. The car spins. We hit yet another tree head on. The airbag slams into my face. The back swings left and wedges against a monstrous sugar pine.

We're stuck. A slurry of slush, snow and volcanic cinder piles up around us. The jet engine roar drowns all sound. A root wad appears out of nowhere and slams into my door. The window fractures, but does not implode. The tide climbs over us and the ear numbing noise muffles, recedes and finally goes silent. Choked by its own exhaust, the Pathfinder's engine sputters and dies. We've been buried alive.

"You all right?"

Something's wrong with my head. It takes a moment to register that Collin's talking to me. I touch the tender spot just above my temple. It hurts. I'm going to have a lump the size of a walnut but I don't feel any blood. The only light is from our phones. When I bring my fingers down, I don't think they're stained red. "Yes," I say, in response to Collin.

He fishes his phone off the floor. Blue LED lights up his face.

"I've got one bar." He dials.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" The signal is bad and the operator's voice broken, but she's understandable.

"Our car was hit by an avalanche. We're buried."

"Any injuries?"

Collin looks at me. I shake my head. Nausea brews and I wish I hadn't.

"No"

"Passengers?"

"One. Myself and one passenger."

"Where are you?"

"Looking Glass Highway. About thirty minutes north of Pining. We were close to Black Crater when it hit."

"Names? Ages?"

Collin gives them.

"Okay. Help is on the way. Can you see anything? Any landmarks?"

"Nothing, the car is completely buried."

The operator asks some more questions. Collin answers them. They ask for a GPS location so Collin drops a pin. Rescue services try to triangulate. We stay on the phone, but eventually the battery dies. I'm freezing.

"Hey, you okay?"

There's so little light, but I can still see the breath misting in front of his face. I'm hugging myself and shaking.

"Cold." My off the shoulder sweater was not made for these conditions.

"Hold on," he says. He lays down his seat and climbs over the back. He fishes our bags from the trunk. We don't have a lot of cold weather clothes, but we do have more clothes. We layer them. At this point I'm cold enough that getting naked in front of Collin so I can get more clothes on doesn't even embarrass me. He has seen me stripping.

When we have as many layers on as we can fit, with socks on our hands, Collin moves over to my seat. We shuffle about until I'm lying atop him. He pulls a thin, crinkly space blanket over us.

"I know it doesn't look like it, but this is supposed to be able to keep us warm. I had it in the car in case I needed it as a throw blanket during a breakdown or something. I never imagined I'd need it for its intended purpose."

Careful not to bump the sore side of my skull, I curl up on his lap and tuck my head under his chin. Pawing at the space blanket with my socked hand, I pull the ridiculous thing up to my ear.

"Col?" My teeth are chattering so it sounds more like, "C-c-c-ol?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

I have to think in order to string words together. It's harder than it should be. "Do you remember sneaking into Rodrigo's garage?"

Collin hesitates. There's a drawn note in his voice when he answers. "Yeah."

"Do you remember the box?"

Collin shifts under me like he's uncomfortable. "I do."

"Why do you think I looked at those magazines with you?"

"I--" He's silent for so long I think he might not answer me. "--don't know. I thought maybe..." Silence again.

"That I was gay? Les?"

"But you're not. Are you?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"You kissed those magazines, the centerfolds, sometimes."

I don't continue. Collin's silent a long time. He jostles me. "And?"

"And I wanted to know what I had to look like in order to get you to kiss me."

I feel Collin's breath catch. "Kenzie--" His tone is mournful. "--I didn't know. I'm sorry. So sorry. For everything."

I play with the zipper of his coat. It's more windbreaker than cold weather gear but fingering it through the socks on my hands distracts me from the cold. "I don't want to die without having kissed you."

"We're not going to die. Help is on its way."

I've stopped shivering. I'm having trouble staying in the flow of our conversation. "I'm cold."

Collin shifts, jostling my head. It hurts, in a kind of distant way. "Here let me see if I can--"

"Collin? Would you kiss me?"

Help!

Collin

Kenzie's words frost-bite my soul. I have dreamed of kissing her every single second of every single day since I laid eyes on her during the End of Summer party on Looking Glass Lake.

But not like this. She'd stopped shivering after we'd bundled up. I thought she was warming up. Now that I'm more alert, I can feel the chill in her flesh where her face is pressed against my neck. My brain scrambles for every last bit of survival lore it has ever digested. I know from observation that women don't regulate their body temperature as easily as men. I've heard sharing body heat, skin to skin, is supposed to help, but I don't think getting naked is a good idea. I don't trust the space blanket, which means we don't have anything to keep our warmth in.

Not that Kenzie has any warmth to keep in. She feels like a Popsicle.

"Collin?"

She sounds sleepy. I panic. I know I have to keep her awake.

I kiss her. I'm afraid if I give her what she wants she'll stop fighting, but maybe sharing air will warm her up. Maybe the fire she ignites in me will ignite in her too. I'm not often given to praying, but, God, I'd rather die than lose McKenzie again.

Despite the chill in her flesh, McKenzie's mouth is pliant. Her lip gloss tastes like it looks, like raspberries. There's a hint of wedding reception champagne on her tongue. There's another taste that surpasses anything I've tasted before. It makes me heady. And ravenous. My arms band about her tighter.

She hums, and, fuck me, if I don't take that as a good sign. I deepen our kiss. I feel her smile against me.

Her lips just kind of roll off me. "That was nice." Sleep muffles her voice in a fuzzy blanket.

"Kenzie?"

No response.

I gently shake her. Nothing.

"McKenzie!" I shake her as hard as I dare. Her head is wobbling back and forth but she still doesn't reply.

"Help!" I pound the roof of the car. The heel of my hand makes dull thuds against the headliner but otherwise I hear nothing. I don't know how long we've been here but my phone had gone dead--so, hours. McKenzie's phone went dead before mine.

"Help!" I scream with everything I have. I pound the ceiling with might born of desperation. I don't know how deep we are but I know I can't open the door. I consider the window but water is trickling through and I have no idea how fluid the snow is.

"Help! Oh, God, help! Please, help!" I'd do anything to save McKenzie. Give up NHL. Give up hockey. But I'm helpless. I clutch her and sob.

A scratch comes from above. It's darker than night but something swipes against the windshield. It happens again. I think it's a paw. A canine nose pushes up against the glass and then barking.

More barking. More scraping. Some idiot brought timber wolves to the lower forty-eight rather than the less aggressive red wolves that once lived here. The timber wolves have made their way to Oregon. I don't think these are them. I have to trust these aren't them. A long howl slices the night.

The barking is interrupted by the whine of a two stroke engine. It sounds like a motor-cross. It's probably a snowmobile. More join the first. I hear voices shouting.

"Help!" I below so loud my voice cracks. I hammer the roof. I'm probably denting it. More shouting, followed by a sound that can only be shovels.

Something smacks the glass. I see light from above. A man in rescue gear slides face first into the hole cleared by dogs and shovels. His high watt LED flashlight blinds me.

"Help," I say, loud enough to be heard but no longer shouting.

"We'll get you out of there."

"She's dying!" This time my voice is louder. More desperate.

The flashlight moves from my face to the lump curled up against my chest. I move the space blanket down so he can see McKenzie.

"Injuries?" The man's word barks like one of the dogs.

"I don't think so. Hypothermia!"

"Can you roll down the window?" he says right as a dog's paw smacks it. I try the window. The window motor whines, the car battery is probably weak, but crinkling and popping the broken glass goes down. Snowmelt and slush fall in, but not a dangerous amount.

"Is she wearing something thick? On her arm or right behind her neck. A hood would be ideal. Give it to Max."

I strip the socks off my hands and fish her Henley's hood out from under three layers of clothing. I pull it towards Max, who's wiggling like mad to reach her. He's a big dog and the window is small for him. He tries not to get my hand when I drag Kenzie's hoodie to him, but he grazes my flesh. That's okay. He's acting like his only mission in life is to save McKenzie. I feel you Max. God, do I feel you.

Max tugs. There is some bumping. McKenzie is going to have some new bruises, but the moment I manage to get her head and shoulders through the window, Max rips her right out of my lap.

The hole clears and I see blinding white halogen light raining from above. There's more shouting. I hear someone call for a Life-Flight.

There is not time to wait for the rescue personnel to get back to me. I have to be with McKenzie. I crawl into the hole that was the Pathfinder passenger side window. But I'm bigger than McKenzie. I'm bigger than Max. It's a tight fit.

I'm about halfway through. Snowmelt is running down my collar. It's fucking cold. Max slides back down in the hole. I reach out, giving him my sleeve.

I don't know what it is about dogs, maybe it's the four legs, maybe it's the extra traction, maybe it's that they just give their all, but they're fucking strong. It takes three, maybe four tugs and I'm on the surface. Max let's go of my sleeve and barks like mad.

A thirtish woman, dressed in paramedic rescue gear, races to me as I stagger to my feet. I tell her I'm okay and answer all of her questions as my frantic, Kenzie seeking gaze bumps over the scene.

The landscape is unrecognizable. Dirty snow, broken trees and tumbled rock obliterate any sign that there'd once been a road. The hole Max ripped me out of has to be at least four feet deep. A snowmobile rumbles and whines as it powers floodlights and heaters. A canvas tent that might sleep ten has been erected. I see silhouettes inside. That has to be where McKenzie is. With the woman's help, I stagger towards it. My body has numbed more than I realized.

Two men praise the dogs, about ten I think, and then send them on another search. Someone asks me if I'd seen any other cars. I hadn't and say so. The tent is tall enough I barely have to duck when entering. Welcome heat blasts me when I'm led inside.

McKenzie is on a rescue sled. Most of her clothes are thrown in a corner. A blanket has been wrapped around her and a paramedic was strapping what looked like some sort of chemical thermal pack just below her chest. He wraps her in a second blanket which must be electric because he plugs it into an outlet on the heater. A second paramedic was doing that flashlight-in-the-eyes check thing. Even from where I'm standing I can see she's unresponsive.

"Head injury. Possible concussion," he says, seemingly to no one, but everyone takes note. I'd thought she'd looked like a wraith when we'd encountered Codey at The Salty Dog. Now her skin looks transparent. I want to go to her but I know I'll just be in the way. I let the woman push me into a corner.

The other paramedic says, "Eighty-two and falling."

Eighty-two what? Eighty-two degrees! I surge to my feet. Or I try to. My minder anticipated me and, with a hand on my shoulder, keeps me down. Katie, at some point I'd learned my medic's name was Katie, hands me a cup of thermos coffee.

"It's not hot anymore, but it will warm you." She takes my temperature with one of those thermal handguns. I think I see it blinking back at ninety-one. She checks my clothes to see if I'm soaked, but I'm not. Damp has not reached my skin except where the slush went down my shirt.

"Prep an IV," one of McKenzie's medics says. I cringe when the medic that'd announced her head injury threads a needle into her wrist. Needles don't bother me but I sure hate seeing McKenzie jabbed. The medic connects the luer and gets a drip going.

"Eighty-one-point-seven and falling."

I'm not aware of what, but a sound must escape me.

"We'll save her," Katie says. "I promise."

I don't believe it's a promise Katie can make. Only God can make that promise. But I need the lie, so I don't call her on it.

"Seven micrograms epinephrine."

The second paramedic repeats the order and injects the IV's primary bag with a syringe.

"Eighty-one-point-three and falling. Five micrograms dopamine."

"Five micrograms dopamine." Another needle goes into the sharps container.

"Eighty-one-point-three."

Heartbeats hammered by. Everyone in the tent is holding their breath. Outside someone yelled, "Life-Flight requesting flare!" Off to my right there's a loud hiss and a blinding light blossoms. Even through the walls of the tent I can see the potassium missile climb for the sky.

"Eighty-one-point-four. Prep for transport."

There's a throbbing in the air now. It sounded like a helicopter. The medics secure the IV to the rescue sled and strap Kenzie down. The tent rocks as if hit by a gale. Someone unzips the door and McKenzie's medics hustle her out. I want to follow, but I'm not allowed.

Income Crisis

McKenzie

It's been a week and a half since the avalanche. I don't remember much about it. Nothing really. Just something that seems like a dream. It must be a dream. Collin kissed me. I've been dreaming that dream since I was eight years old. My last real memory is of Luke outing me to my family, his family, the whole world.

And I've not been able to do @EmzyStreams since. Too many people know. Too many people I know, know. I know that they can just go watch me on the eternal-smut-net but the thought of performing live for friends or family is just too much. @EmzyStreams is no longer an option for me.

I have enough money saved, I can get to the end of the quarter, maybe, and then... The thought tears my soul in half. I'm going to have to drop out of school. Get a job. Save up cash. Return. Hopefully. Maybe? By then Collin will be gone. East Coast, probably. That's where the teams are and I have no doubt he'll play professional hockey. He's good. I don't know what hurts worse, the death of my career dream or losing Collin--again.

Collin backs up the stream. Like I was when I woke up in the hospital a day after Salene's wedding, I'm tucked under his arm. Dad, Heather, Toney and April visited me in the hospital. My family had to leave but, Collin's Dad, Stephen, picked us up and brought us to campus when I was released from the hospital. For the next day I fielded, like, a million calls from everyone else but Mother. When they left me in the care of Stephen, Collin's dad, Dad promised to return as soon as he could. I don't know how I feel about that. We've not talked about @EmzyStreams.

I've not been able to perform since Luke announced my humiliation to my entire family. I was never happy about how I earned my wages. Every time I loaded up my room, I felt like a little piece of me was being chipped away. But as mortifying as displaying myself to the world was, I could bear it so long as I had the illusion that my family would never know. That illusion is shattered. My whole family knows I'm @EmzyStreams.

My sisters don't care. My brothers wouldn't perv, but I just can't. But even though I'm not doing that anymore doesn't mean there's not a lot of forever footage of me out on the eternal-smut-net. Dad must be ashamed. Knowing that I've failed him just might be a load I can't bear.

Collin rewinds the stream again. I'd come over on the pretense of tutoring him. He doesn't need it. By the end of quarter he'll be rocking an "A." So we do homework and then watch game reel. He missed another three practices while he stayed with me in the hospital. I don't think Coach Wilson is actually mad at Collin but he's made sure Col knows there's a price to pay for blowing off practice. As soon as his hyper healthy body recovered from its own ordeal he's spent extra hours on the ice and so many more hours reviewing game reel. He blew practice off for me. That makes me fuzzy inside.

Bonus, I like watching game reel with Collin. It's a big part of what I wanted to do for my career. It gives me ideas for a paper I'm working on. A totally meaningless paper. Because I'm not going to graduate, I can't afford my degree. I no longer whore myself on-screen.

Carefully, so Collin doesn't see me, I wipe away a tear.

When my phone vibrates, I check it. It's my oldest brother, Andre. We've talked more in the last week than we have in the past year. I don't answer because I don't need another lecture about asking for money. He has a wife and two babies. He works at a fish cannery in Seattle. The only person in the money in my family is Salene and that's because she married Luke's brother. Brian's awesome. But I don't want a dime that makes me think of Luke.

As if thinking about her summoned her, Salene calls right on the heels of Andre. She's called every day. I let that go to voicemail. It's her honeymoon. I ruined her wedding. I'm not going to ruin that too. I curl back into Collin's side. He's warm. Cozy. Comfy. He's not like my boyfriend or anything but this feels good--companionable.

Collin rewinds the video yet again. I don't know if he's fixated on the defensive-man or the goalie. I'd been shocked when I saw Collin clock Lankslee on TV. Collin is not a fighter. That was not his way. Usually. When a D-man pokes him he just pours on the heat and leaves the asshat in the glitter of his ice-dust. He's not yet told me what happened. He looks abashed every time I ask. It's kind of cute.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

Collin pauses the video. "Baker. He's coming out of the crease."

"Yeah?"

"Why? He's leaving the net open. That's a rookie mistake. He's a godly goalie. I know. I've shot on him. He doesn't do it every game but when he does leave the crease, he does it a lot. He catches himself. Corrects and then does it again. What's going on?"

I laugh.

"What?"

"It's the girl."

"What are you talking about? What girl?"

"I don't know if he's trying to impress her or she has some sort of magnetic pull on him or if he simply forgets where he's at but when she's in the stands it's like he's pulled towards her."

"You're shitting me."

"Nope" I take the remote and fast forward looking for a shot from the correct angle. "There." I pause the screen. Lankslee is front and center fighting off a Harvard forward. Baker's not even in the shot. "Third row, right side of the screen. Blonde. Baker's jersey."

"Fuck me."

Something like a hot slinky slithers through my core. Collin shouldn't be allowed to say things like that. I slide my teeth over my lip.

Oblivious to my sudden itch, Collin pushes out of his seat and changes the stream. "Okay smartass, what about this one?"

The camera is following Silas. I know this one. I've watched it a few times myself. There's a defensive-man breathing down his neck. Silas loses the goon by slingshotting behind the crease but butchers his wrist shot.

"When Silas is frustrated he chokes up on the stick. It alters his shot."

Collin nods. I think he knew that one. "Okay this one." He changes streams again.

I have to watch for a bit. A long bit. It's Utah vs. Denver. Neither are teams I follow. At first I don't even know what I'm looking for. Collin comes back to sit beside me and I cuddle into him but my eyes are glued to the screen. When the game is over, I ask him if he has another stream. I have an idea but I need to see more.

The next game is the Golden Griffins against the Pioneers which narrows the playing field by half. I was right. We weren't watching the Utah team, we were watching the Pioneers. I'm pretty sure we were watching Carter, the second line center. He's no Collin. He would not make the NHL. Every now and then, his plays were brilliant.

"Carter? Right?" I ask.

Collin nods. I can see he's impressed.

"He excels under pressure. If the goon backs off just a little, he relaxes--too much. See, right there--" I point. "--Carter straightens. Anyone can just sweep in and strip the puck. But you can't just leave him be. The goon has to put pressure on him and then back off. He'd fall to a coordinated attack."

"Fuck, Kenzie, you're good at this."

I make a non-committal sound. I've watched a lot of games. A lot of it is intuition. But I've crunched the numbers too. That's what the degree I'm no longer getting is all about. It was my dream. Now I might as well be a barista. Learn how to say, "Do you want creamer with that?" in Spanish.

We watch more games. Collin points out what he sees. I point out what I see. I like being with him like this. Casual. Doing something fun. Sometimes we see the same thing. Sometimes we see different things. NHL is going to be lucky to have Collin.

AV Room

Collin

The hockey program's media room at Cascade Pines has a pretty sweet setup. Coach has like five Jumbotron sized displays to pop up different angles of the same play. Each athlete gets their own touch screen so they can zoom in or out on coach's presentation. We can also use our displays to add notes and whatnot to the Coach's master television so we can highlight the things we've noted for all the team to see.

It's Thursday evening. I arrive in the media room for our strategy session early. We have a game in Denver Saturday. We don't have a lot of teams close to the Pacific shore in the States so we generally consider the mountain state teams, like the Pioneers, our closest rivals. I've missed more than one strategy meeting trying to get my grades up and now I've missed a practice. There was nothing I could do about the avalanche and there was nothing, and I mean, nothing, that could've pulled me away from McKenzie in the hospital but that doesn't alleviate my guilt. I've put a McKenzie ahead of my team. I've put her ahead of myself. I'm Team Captain and I feel like I'm letting my boys down.

"Hey, Cap." That's Potts. He's just entered the room. Potts is our second line D-man but he looks too big to be on the ice. He has the build of a football defensive end. It seems he should be playing on the Huskies or Ducks football teams. But, despite his size, he's fast. I can out skate him but not even I enjoy being locked in his sights. He has the momentum of a freight train and there are times I swear the boards are going to break when he plows some unlucky forward into them.

I set aside my phone. I'd been checking the insurance settlement on my Pathfinder. There's zero chance I can replace my ride with the same quality of vehicle. I swear insurance appraisers look at blue-book value and round down. "Hey."

Roman, Owen and O'Brey file in behind Potts. Ro drops into the seat beside me.

"So, that blonde chick--"

Owen groans. "Fuck, not this again."

"What blonde chick?" I ask. If I've been a poor teammate lately, I've been a terrible friend. Between my statistics troubles and Kenzie, I don't know what's going on in my own house.

"Ash. Do you think she digs me?"

I'm floored. Really. I nearly fall out of my seat. Roman has never asked me--anyone--for the scoop on a girl. He's like me--fuck--like everyone in the room. Clara aside, if a woman doesn't chase him, he walks. There's plenty of fish in the sea and there's zero reason to fixate on just one. Yes, Ashley is a forest fire but that's no excuse.

"Well?"

I think about it. On our way to Florence, Kenzie told me Ash had had an ovaryexplosion when she first met Roman. I'm not so sure. I think Ashley is as likely to go all Jurassic Park on Ro as she is to mack on him. Eviscerate him or stick her tongue down his throat. Pretty disparate reactions. I hedge. "I don't know."

"Fuck."

"Is this the chick you were hitting on at the Phi Alpha Phi party?" Potts asks. He's taken a seat on the far side of the room. The party in question had been the weekend Kenzie and I were in Florence "Dude, that girl does not like you."

"That was foreplay."

"Foreplay my ass. I'm with Potts. Girl does not like you," O'Brey says.

"What makes you say that?" Roman's voice makes me think of an overcast sky. I've heard happier sounds.

"Her middle finger."

Mirth rumbles from Potts, Silas, and Owen. I snort.

"Fuck y'all. Some friends you are." Roman folds over his desk. He rests his head on his forearms. "I'm dying here." His voice is muffled.

That makes Potts' and Owen's sides shake all the harder. A few more of our teammates filter in.

"I thought she was going to lay you out like that chick did Cap," Silas says. He hasn't taken a seat and is pitched up against the back wall.

"Hey, yeah." Roman jerks up and rounds on me. "You dated Ash. Do me a solid. Get me an in?" Every head in the room turns towards me.

"That was six years ago. We were freshman, in high school. I barely know her now." That was true. Ashley dumped me two weeks after McKenzie moved. She'd gotten what she wanted. Me. To herself. Once she secured that, she got bored. She ditched me. We moved in different circles after.

"You're hanging with KZ. Get me her number."

"I'm not scalping Ash's number. Get it yourself, dumbass. And ask Ash. Not Kenzie."

"She won't give it to me." I think this might be the first time I've ever heard Roman whine--about anything.

"There might be a reason for that," Owen says.

"Oh, I think she already gave you her number, Lover Boy. Dial 0-100-0100. It looked like this." Potts flips Roman a double bird.

I bite my lip to hold back my chuckle. By the look on his face, Roman wants to deck me.

"Take a seat!" Those still standing scramble for a desk as Coach strode for the front of the room. He'd used his indoor voice. He pointed at the TV. The queued reel of Denver and Dartmouth starts to play. Carter, a center, has the puck. Dartmouth's goon is on his ass. Carter scoops the puck. Does a full speed three-sixty spin and fires off a wrist rocket--right for the five-hole. It was a beautiful shot and it scored.

Coach queued up another stream on Denver vs. Florida. Carter again. Another miracle play. Pioneers vs. the Lakers. A slap shot. Corner net. Score. In every case, a D-man was in Carter's face.

Coach points at Roman, Potts and our other D-men. "This is the a-hole you are going up against on Saturday. Carter wasn't this good last season. I don't know what he's been putting in his Wheaties but you can't let him make a shot on net. That goes for all of you." He takes in the whole room with his gaze. "Don't let him have the puck."

"Coach," I say.

Wilson's gaze swings to me. "Glad you could make it, Col." The boom in his voice isn't encouraging.

"Do you have Denver vs. Utah? Denver vs. Canisius U?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you pull them up?"

Coach cocks a brow at me but queues the videos McKenzie and I watched. Either Utah and Canisius had seen what McKenzie had identified or their D-men weren't on the same level as those Coach had just shown us. I scroll to the Canisius U play Kenzie and I had discussed first and then pull up a few others we'd watched with Utah.

"Watch what happens when Carter gives the D-man the slip." In all four plays, Carter lets his guard down. In two of them, the defense takes the puck.

"Well, dayum. Good eye, Collin." Coach levels his gaze on Roman, Potts and the defensive coach. "We need a strategy. We have one more practice so we need it tonight." Coach began to rattle off instructions.

I interrupt. "Coach?"

Wilson crosses his arms but turns his gaze on me.

"I didn't actually see that. It was a friend."

"Kenzie saw that?" Owen exclaims. All my roommates were aware that McKenzie had been watching game reel with me.

I indicate that she had.

"The chick that laid you out?" Brody says.

"She did not lay me out," I grouse, but touch my jaw. It's long since healed. She hadn't hit me that hard, but there'd been so much hurt in her eyes when she'd done it. That pain now seemed to live in my jaw.

Coach snorts. He levels his glare on me. "What else has this Kenzie seen?"

I tell him about a few of the other things we'd looked at. I bring up Baker.

"Everyone's seen that."

"Yeah, but have you seen why? Kenzie told me why he's doing it and how to predict when he'll do it again."

"Pray tell."

I have Coach Wilson queue up the Michigan vs. Harvard game. I look for the same play with Lankslee and use my touch screen to circle the blonde girl Kenzie had identified.

Coach shakes his head. "Fucking women." There's a chuckle in his voice but it makes me think of another time he said those exact words. Coach apparently thinks the same thing. "Is this Kenzie the reason you got ejected from the Michigan game?"

What can I say? I swallow and nod.

"And she's the girl you were in the hospital with?"

"Yes, Coach." I have to clear my throat, because the first time I try to say it, the words don't come out.

Wilson turns to his support staff--assistant coaches, analysts, team doctor, nutritionist and sport's therapists. "Do any of you know this Kenzie?"

One of the interns coughs. I don't actually know what the lanky Indian dude does. I don't even know his name. I think of most of them like the water girls at a football game. Team extras. I know it's not nice, they are part of the team, I know they contribute, but I'm just not sure how. They work more with Coach's support staff than us players. The lanky dude says, "I don't know a Kenzie, but there's a McKenzie Rivers in some of my Sports Health and Sciences Classes."

"That's her name?"

Coach is looking at me, so I answer. He's asking more than if that's her name though. He's asking who the fuck would name her that. The McKenzie River might be the most famous river in the region. Shit, the boats we call river boats out west are McKenzie boats back east. I have no answer, so I don't try. I like Todd, McKenzie's dad, but I have to wonder how much cannabis was in his system when she was born. The way people have teased her over the years has been like a dildo in her ass. I'm assuming she doesn't like that.

Dildos, I mean.

In her ass.

What do I know? I know she doesn't like the disbelief, questions and hazing. God, the fishing stories she's endured. With her luck she's going to marry someone named Boat. Then she'll be McKenzie Rivers Boat--or just, McKenzie Boat. Fuck, I envy Mr. Boat.

Coach Wilson is looking at me again. "What does Ms. Rivers say about Silas's slap shot?"

"Hey! Why are you picking on me?" Silas gripes. Coach ignores him.

There's not a person in the room that doesn't already know this so I'm not actually doing Silas a disservice. It has to be a test. Like I tested her after she pointed out Baker's weakness. "That when he's feeling pressure, he chokes up on the stick. But not just his slap shot, his wrist shot too."

"What's Ms. Rivers's major, Collin?"

"Sports Analytics. I think. Something like that."

"Is she in the intern program?"

Man, I feel like I'm being interrogated. I hope I don't say anything that might come back and bite my BFF. "I don't think so. She's a junior. She'd have to be a senior, right?"

"Right," Coach says, but I think I can see the gears turning.

Job Hunt

McKenzie

I balance my checkbook--again. If I put aside the money I need for November's and December's rent I might have enough to eat. I'm not sure I have the cash to pay the minimum stipend on my maxed cards. I don't actually know what happens if I default on one. I don't want to find out. I know I don't have enough to pay my medical bills. I could send them home but Mother would bitch. Dad would... I don't know what Dad would do. We've talked. Once or twice I thought he was going to bring up my @EmzyStreams nightmare but he doesn't. I almost wish he would. I need to know that he still loves me. I mean, he says he loves me but the whole thing is hanging over my head. I feel like a French revolutionary waiting for the guillotine. Just thinking about it causes pressure to swell in my sinuses. Everything goes blurry and it feels like a mud-dauber has jabbed me in the eyes.

I lift my gaze to the ceiling. I don't want to cry about this. Again. I blink rapidly. I want to rub the sting out of my eyes but I'm wearing my contacts.

Disaster averted. I use my laptop to log back into the CPU classifieds. I've applied for six food service jobs, a tutoring position and tried begging one of my professors for a job as an Undergrad TA. I've gotten to know this girl, Kayla, as we waited in line for three of the four interviews we've had. She got the job at the campus diner over by the sports complex. I'm happy for her--sorta. I am, at least I want to be, but... now it's my turn. Bitch. Not really. Dammit! I hate thinking like this.

I don't find anything new. I surf over to a Sallie Mae portal and see if there's some way I can dig myself even deeper into student debt. I already owe Ms. Mae more than I've made in my entire life. I don't know what else to do.

An email notification pops up. It's my student advisor. I've been trying to get an appointment with her in hopes she can point me to some work. Or handouts. Or something. I tab over to Outlook. An unexpected opportunity opened in Professor Allison Jacobs schedule at one-thirty. She has something urgent to share. I don't know if I should feel hope or nerves. Nerves win out. They definitely win out. I feel a little sick.

I fire off a confirmation email. It's twelve-forty-five but I've got to walk across campus and I don't want to be late. I shutdown my laptop, slip a fleece coat over my bodysuit sweater and head out. It's between classes so there's not, like, a million people on the student superhighway. Fortunately the early snow melted during the follow-up rainstorm. There's no ice, so walking is easy. It's sunny but chilly today. Ashley is headed into class early so she joins me.

She's quiet though. It's been nearly two weeks since the wedding. We live in the same house. We attend many of the same classes. Somehow we've not had a chance to stop and chat.

Actually, that's a lie. We've chatted a lot--all about me. I need to ask what's up because even shitty friends ask their not shitty friends about themselves once every millennium or so.

"You're awfully quiet, Ash."

She flinches like she's surprised I'm talking--or forgotten that I was there. Maybe she thought her shitty friend just didn't care. "Oh, I--Just thinking."

"About what? Is something bothering you?"

Ashley gifts me a noncommittal shrug and glances away across the lake. She doesn't look upset, or sad, just a little lost.

"Are you still seeing Camron?" I ask. I don't think she is. I didn't even think they'd really gotten together. They'd gone on maybe two dates in September but she'd not talked about him since.

"What makes you say that?"

"Is it about Roman?" When Ash had first laid eyes on Roman outside of Collin's house she'd drooled. Everything after had rubbed her wrong.

Ashley shoots me an alarmed glance. She bites her lip and then ducks her head. Her cheeks take on a rosy hue. I don't think it's from the chill air flowing down from the mountains.

"He's a dick."

"Boys do tend to have those in place of brains."

I don't get a snicker. Not even a lip twitch.

"Why is he so aggravating? It's like everything he says is designed to push my buttons. I think he does it on purpose."

I'd only seen the two of them together during my dress fitting but I think that too. I've seen him with Collin. The boy is constantly poking.

"I think that's how he is, Ash. I told you about the Oreo cookies."

This time her lips do twitch. I think she almost laughs.

"You know, Collin and I are the only people in your circle that bisects Roman's. You can just avoid him, Ash. I won't be offended if you bail on me when he's around. Col doesn't have the right to be offended."

Ashley side eyes me. She tilts her face away so I can't see her expression. "I run into him outside of Wyatt." She's talking towards the lake so her voice is kind of muffled.

Wyatt is one of the lecture halls over by the Engineering and Architecture Department. My girl is studying to be an engineer. I wonder what Roman's major is. I'd have thought it was Broadcasting or Journalism or Sports Something. He's good enough to go pro. Most athletes don't go for a degree as nerdy as those taught in Wyatt.

A thought occurs to me. "Ash, are you hanging with Ro?"

"He follows me to lunch."

That's a surprise. I'm all but certain that if Ashley told Roman to get lost--as in, you're creeping me out, get lost--he'd leave her alone. He might be a tease but I've not once gotten creep vibes from him, not even when he was trying to get me to put on that frilly maid outfit of mine. I can't put my finger on why, because Collin's friends are definitely boys-boys, but I always feel safe with them. "Do you invite him to lunch?"

Ashely places her face in her hands and groans. "Once." A beat cycles. "Okay, twice." She looks at me. There's a blush on her cheeks and it's not her makeup. "Three times last week, twice this week." She wrings her hands. "I--" Her chest heaves. "--came back to the house for lunch today."

I can't tell if she's upset that anxiety about Roman drove her back to the house or if she's upset she didn't stay on campus and have lunch with Ro. If Ash's brain is anything like mine, it's both. I know I can't think straight when it comes to Col. At any given moment I want five different things and all of them conflict.

The College of Sports Health and Sciences and the College of Engineering and Architecture are on opposite ends of campus, so when we reach the quad we wave our goodbyes and peel off. I find my way to Filbert, climb five flights of stairs and knock on Allison's door. Professor Jacobs is an academic and a woman, so her office is fricking tiny. There's not enough room for her, her desk and her books. So the books are stacked everywhere. Her one window looks on the wall of the neighboring lecture hall. I instinctively squeeze my shoulders together so I take up as little room as possible when I enter. I try not to breathe too deep. If the mildew scent clinging to the less airy spaces in Filbert makes me sneeze, I might not stop.

Professor Allison Jacobs was a mildly stocky, shorter woman. She'd not had her brunette bob colored in some time and I could see the gray next to her part. I thought her young for reading glasses, but, apparently, she needed them. They were perched on the end of her nose when I entered. She didn't look up from her laptop until I was seated. I liked her. She was a good mentor. She went out of the way for her students, female and male, but she was very busy and often abrupt. She was not a pat-you-on-the-back-and-comfort-you kind of person. If she were a man she'd be called a straight shooter. As a woman, she's often a bitch.

"McKenzie, you're looking for a job." Prof asked the question like it was a statement.

"I am. I don't have any money. I don't know how..." How I'm going to finish my degree. But I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to put it out to the universe.

"You're not working at Sisters Exposed?"

I didn't hear judgment but that didn't stop the mortification that washed through me. Heat blossomed in my cheeks and I actually felt faint--like, break out the smelling salts, faint. Not a lot slipped by Prof Jacobs but I thought--prayed--that that hadn't reached her.

"It's okay dear. I know things are getting hard--harder--for people trying to receive an education. Like so many things, it seems that young women are the first to be steam rolled."

"I'm not doing that anymore." Already small, my voice grew smaller. "I can't."

"Well, I guess that solves one issue."

Issue? I really am going to faint. My vision narrows and I see the black spots and everything.

"Brad Wilson is looking for another analyst intern and he's asked for you by name. But the University has a reputation to maintain and they'd prefer if you didn't... moonlight."

"I..." Brad Wilson? As in Coach Brad Wilson? What was happening right now?

"Brad would like to meet you in person. If you and he come to an agreement, you'll be offered a provisional internship with the hockey program. The position is not a W-2 job. Instead your tuition will be waived. Think of it more like an athletics scholarship. You'll receive a quarterly stipend for books, a monthly housing allowance and a campus meal plan. You'll have obligations you have to meet for the athletics department, including, but not limited to, attending practices and games. You'll be required to review hundreds of hours of game stream. It's a full time job and between that and your courses, your schedule will be full. It'll look great on your CV."

I--I--I--Ohmigod! Yes! "When?" I have no clue how my voice is so calm. I still feel like fainting, because--ohmigod!

"Brad has forty-five minutes at three-thirty."

I have a class. I won't be attending. Sorry Professor Lawrence.

"I've taken the liberty of telling Richard you won't be in class today."

I ask if Allison has any interview tips. I hang on every word like my life depends on it.

Because it does.

Ohmigod, I Have A Job!

McKenzie

Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I have a job!

And what a job! I pop off my pumps as I run through my sorority's door. None of my sisters are in the great room or kitchen so I run upstairs. It's a quarter after four, so I know Ashley is still in her last class. I skid to a stop in front of Sophie's door.

"Sophie!" I rap--well, pound--on her door. I'm so excited I have to tell someone. The Phantom of the Opera answers in a gray mask. The Phantom, I mean, Tracy, Sophie's roommate, is probably prepping for a party. Thus the charcoal mask.

That's okay. I'll tell Tracy.

"I've got a job!" I don't wait for her to answer and race for my room. I don't have a lot of time. Practice starts at six and I've got to be there.

"Yay, you," Tracy says. I can't believe she's not more excited. I mean, come on. I hear her door shut at the same time I pop through mine. I don't bother closing it.

I don't have time to put my skirt suit up. I just throw it on my bed. I wiggle into a pair of fleece lined stretchy pants--it gets cold in Hugo Sports Center--and a hoodie with my sorority's Greek name. It's pink, but Coach said dress comfortable. I jam my feet into my Converse and race out of my room. My door booms behind me and I leap down the staircase like I'm still fourteen. I'm out the front door and sprinting. I could wait for practice but I want to tell Collin now!

I'm not watching where I'm going. I collide with somebody. I take several staggered steps and I'm about to apologize when I see that it's Luke on the ground. Forget apologies. I just keep running. I know I should be winded but it feels like someone's swapped my Coke with Jolt. I'm not even breathing hard when I fly up Collin's porch.

Roman answers.

"I've got a job! I've got a job!" I've grabbed his shoulders and I bounce three times. I push past him and race across the living-room. "Where's Collin?"

I don't pause for him to answer. I fly up the stairs. My shoes squeak outside Collin's door. I misjudge my balance and drop to my seat. My butt is not a rubber ball but at that moment it might as well have been. I'm back on my feet before I've even registered that my tailbone hurts. I don't pretend to knock on Collin's door. I hammer.

"Collin!" I yell through the door. "I've got a job!"

"So I've heard."

I leap, like, so high. If the ceiling hadn't been in the way, it would've been a world's record standing high jump. I come down and Collin's behind me.

I spin and he's got this bemused expression on his face. It's a mirror of the expressions on Ro's and Luce's faces. They've come up the stairs and are standing a few feet back from Col. Owen steps out of the hall bathroom. He forgot to zip up but that's his problem and I don't care right now. All eyes are on me, but, so what?

"I've got a job!"

"You said that. What's the job?"

I cock a hip and try for nonchalance but fail miserably. I'm smiling so hard my ears hurt. "You're looking at the Red Wolves' new team analyst. Intern," I amend. "But--I got a job!"

"Congratulations Kenzie." He pats my back awkwardly because I've pinned both his biceps to the side of his chest in a bear hug.

I don't loosen my grip but I twist my head so my chin is pressed into his collar and I'm looking up into his face. I'm vibrating. "I want to celebrate."

Collin chuckles and I feel it in my boobs. No, that's not right, I feel it everywhere. "We've got practice and then a flight to Colorado. I don't think Coach will condone celebrating before a game. You don't want to lose your job."

"That's not what I had in mind." I go up on my toes.

A kiss is supposed to start slow, sweet. A gentle brushing of lips. An exploration. A conversation before it becomes more. This is not a kiss. It's a mauling. It's like I'm twelve and have forgotten absolutely everything that makes a great kiss. I grab the nape of Collin's neck and yank his lips onto mine. I open my mouth and invade him.

I absolutely melt. I've never tasted anything so good. There's mint and some sort of power aid--not tastes that should go together--and him. Something that must be him. That's what tastes so good. My heart swells. I've not ever felt like this. I might actually come from sheer bliss. I used to dream of kissing Collin, but nothing has prepared me for the reality. The only thing that has ever come close was that time I dreamt of kissing Collin while I was out cold from hypothermia. I can't permit this to be our last, only, kiss.

"Collin?" I say. I'm feeling breathless. I'm excited. I'm joyful. I'm fricking scared shitless but the universe has decided today is my birthday. I'm going to take advantage while it's handing out gifts.

"Yeah?" The word comes out of Collin's mouth like he's forgotten how to speak. He looks like he shoved his fingers into an outlet.

I twist my hands together but don't let myself break eye contact. "Will you be my boyfriend?" If he doesn't say, "yes," I just might die.

Girl Much?

Collin

It's dark outside my portal. Below I can make out the lights of some lonely ranch-stead but everything else is black. The steady, red pulse of the wing-light reflects off the glass. Beside me Lucas has his earbuds in. His seat's back and his eyes are closed. Across the aisle Roman reads a textbook. The cabin lights are on dim and many of my teammates are asleep. The roar of the jet engine is muted this far forward in the plane.

It's a private jet. School owned. I--the whole team--is in what would be considered first class on a commercial jet. My girlfriend of four hours is back in economy. Even separated by one bulkhead barrier and numerous seats, I'm so attuned to her voice that I can hear it rise and fall as she excitedly analyzes game stream with her new friends.

I wish I was back there with her. Or better yet, she was up here with me. But I can't do that. Not because there's some rule against it, but because I'm not supposed to have a girlfriend.

I told Michelle I was too busy for a girlfriend, that I couldn't afford the distraction. It wasn't like Michelle hadn't been good enough for me. It was that the power women wielded over men freaked me the fuck out. McKenzie had destroyed my focus before she became my GF. I punched Lankslee. I'd skimped on my physical fitness routine. I'd missed practices--on purpose. I've never done that before. She'd asked me to be her boyfriend, and after that kiss, I couldn't say, "no." I didn't want to say, "no." It wasn't even like she'd taken control of me on purpose. She just had.

But I'd made such a big, huge, mistake and not just because she scared the fuck out of me. Kenzie was my BFF and I didn't know how I was going to not break her heart again. I'd already shredded it once. I didn't want to do it again. How do you pick between the person you would die for and the dream that you live for? I didn't know and it was destroying me. I had no thoughts for the upcoming game. My GF had taken up every last neuron in my brain space. That was a problem.

Nate Lebedev was two rows in front of me. He was a senior. By rights he should've been team captain, not me. Nate had had a steady girlfriend for as long as I've known him. Sometime between last season and this one Violet had gained a ring on a very important finger. Potts was in the seat beside him but he's vacated to take a dump or something. Nate looked asleep but I knew he was meditating or some shit. I nudge Lucas's legs aside--they were even longer than mine, I swear he was more stilts than torso--and push past him.

Luce flips me off. If I'd had any ass gas I'd have left him a gift.

I drop into the seat beside Nate. He opens one eye. I prop my elbows on my thighs and hunch over my knees as though I'm in seated prayer.

"How do you do it?" I speak low, quiet, but I know that I'm broadcasting to any asshat that wants to listen in.

"Do what?"

I cycle a weighty breath. It feels like my lungs are expelling heavy metals. "How do you balance Vi and hockey?"

"I don't."

I glance up, shocked. Nate's good enough to go pro. I know he wants to. I think he's been recruited to a farm team.

"Vi comes first, always. But she loves me, wants what's good for me, so she puts up with this shit." Nate makes a vague motion that somehow takes in everyone on the plane. "She lets me be who I am, just like I let her be who she is. Do you have any clue about how much time she spends reading and writing and daydreaming about reading and writing? Chicks like to talk but sometimes Vi just disappears, mid-conversation. Shit, mid-word. It's like her mind jaunts off to some realm where all dudes are ripped, there's flower-petals sprinkled on every bed and some bad-boy is shoving his dick up her ass. I'm guessing no one ever shits themselves in Vi land."

I'm not sure I needed to know that about Violet. I won't be able to look her in the eye the next time we speak. But, if she knew, she'd probably just laugh. Girls get a lot more detailed--and savage--when they critique their hook-ups than us. They just don't go public to the opposite gender as often. Probably because they're smart enough to know they'd offend every last one of us babies. No dude wants to know that his penis makes his woman laugh inside or that she wasn't in the mood but faked it for him. It's brutal knowing that shit. We want our woman to want us as bad as we want her. No vagina has ever, not once, made a man laugh.

"Does this have to do with our new intern?"

I look over my shoulder but there's a curtain between the team's first class seats and the staff's economy seats. "Yeah."

Nate's silent long enough that I glance at him fearing he might've ditched our conversation for meditation.

"You've been hanging with this girl for a while now."

I scrub my hands through my hair. I tug at the longer strands. There's this shadow energy condensing in my chest. "We were best friends growing up."

Nate quirks a brow at me. "So what's the problem?"

Atlas was cursed to hold the heavens on his shoulders. I'm afraid I'm cursed to break McKenzie's heart--again. I'd rather hold the heavens. "I've already broke her heart once. I don't want to do it again."

"Then don't."

"I've missed practice. Slacked on PT. Got ejected from a game. Because of her."

"First thing you've got to do is stop blaming this girl for your choices."

I deepen my slouch. My head almost touches my knees. "But I made those choices because I chose her." My voice is probably muffled because I'm talking to the floor.

"So this chick needed you to punch Lankslee?"

"No." I feel a little fire. I don't like that he's right. "But she needed me in the hospital."

"Did she?" I'm so incredulous I tense, ready to defend myself. Nate's not through though. "No judgment, because I'd do the same for Vi, but was your girl even awake when you made your decision?"

"No, but--"

"Look, Col. I've never even talked to this McKenzie--that's her name, right?--but the way you're hung up on her, she's probably a keeper. So you fucked up with Lankslee. Learn your lesson. Don't do it again. You missed practice. It was for a good cause. You flubbed some PT. Oh well. Life is about choices. You can't know the future, so you make the ones you want and go from there."

"I don't want to hurt her again."

"Do you think you hurt her when you interrupted Coach?"

"What are you talking about?"

"In strategy. You interrupted Coach to give this Kenzie credit for something you'd said. You think if you hadn't done that, she'd be on this plane now?"

"She'd deserve to be."

"Of course she'd deserve to be or Coach would've brought her on--but she wouldn't be. She got the opportunity to be here because you had the balls to say that she's smarter than you--about hockey, of all things. You made a choice, for her, that's benefited the whole team. You don't have to choose her or the team. You can choose her and the team. Do you really think McKenzie wants a man whose whole existence revolves around her? That'd be unnerving, not to mention, exhausting. Vi would kick me in the ass and tell me to get a life--right before she ended our engagement to my face."

"Well, fuck."

"Look Collin. Enjoy her. Let her enjoy you. Don't waste any energy worrying about something that might never happen. If you someday find yourself in a place where you feel like the choice is between her and the game--talk to her. She might see opportunities you don't. Then, make a choice. One that's right for you. Because, no matter how much it hurts, if it's right for you, it'll be right for her. If your choice is the game over her, you'll have what you want and someday she'll be happy to know she needs to find someone that puts her in first place--if that's what she wants. If you choose her over the game, you still have what you want and, presumably, so will she. Although, I can't imagine why anyone would want you."

"Thanks jackass." I show him the busted knuckle on my middle finger. I start to rise.

"Any time, asshat. Now go away. You're interrupting my beauty sleep."

"Thank you," I say again, this time meaning it. I stand and move back towards my seat. Roman gives me a flat look.

"Girl much?" he deadpans.

Man, the guy is my friend, one of my best, but sometimes I want to throttle the dude. "Fuck off."

He shoots me a shit eating grin. Lucas does the same. I take off for the back of the plane. There's not enough room in an economy seat for someone my size but I'd rather spend the next three hours pretzeled beside my girlfriend than stretch out with this team of asshole dicks.

That Time Of The Month

McKenzie

I'm lying on Collin's bed. He's doing his homework. I'm watching game feed on my laptop. Luce has the puck. He shoots. He does not score.

I put another check in my notebook beside "slap shot, no score, cross corner." I'll have to crunch the numbers but I think Lucas is telegraphing his shots to the goalie. Just glancing at the checkmarks I've made it seems obvious but sometimes things aren't what they seem. Numbers do lie, but they might also give me different insight. I might need to watch some older streams to see if the pattern has always been there.

The other team gets the puck and I fast forward. I love a good game but I already know who wins this one and I'm not really looking at the opponent's team right now. I'm focused on the Red Wolves' offense. When Collin picks up the puck, I pause the game.

I love my job. It's exactly what I've always dreamed of doing. But I'm not excited about analyzing Collin's game. I--things could get sticky.

I glance over at my boyfriend. Thanksgiving is next week. We've been together a month to the day. It's our drama girl anniversary. I don't think he knows. I don't really care except... I don't know what I expected our relationship to be, but it wasn't this. Other than the kisses that turn my panties into a wet-wipe, every single time, nothing has happened. Collin's not even crossed the blue line and I'm kind of wanting him to poke one into the five-hole--badly. I was having four or five orgasms a day on @EmzyStreams, and I'm so glad I'm not doing that anymore, but, come on Collin, this girl has needs.

Needs he's never had trouble fulfilling for other girls. I know this. I know about Michelle. I knew about Clara two years ago. I know about the endless stream of puck bunnies. I know these things because I've been to his games. I've been to his bar. I've been to the victories parties. I'm his fricking stalker. I'm not proud of that but I know Collin's not a prude.

Except he is. With me. If I'm being honest, it kinda hurts. I don't expect him to give me an orgasm, my other boyfriends rarely could, but I do expect him to try.

I close my laptop and slide off the bed. Collin looks up from his homework. He's not at his desk but in this boxy living-room chair that's in the corner. I push his books aside and straddle his lap.

Collin's in blue jeans and a black tee. The shirt's tight enough that I could trace his muscle game with my fingers. I'm in winter-wear leggings and a pullover because it's always freaking cold in the boy's condo. Collin runs hot and the others must too because they're always lounging about in tee-shirts, tank tops and shorts. I feel that heat now as I splay my fingers over Collin's chest. I lean in for a kiss.

He doesn't stop me, but he doesn't help me. I press my lips to his--just a peck--and pull back. It doesn't matter. A little trickle of heat worms its way through my core. I'm in the middle, or I would be if I wasn't on the pill, and I'm always a little hornier--okay, a lot hornier--this time of the month. It's maddening. I clench.

Collin's breath catches. My downstairs flexed. He probably felt my thighs tense. Our lips are so close I can smell the electrolyte thirst quencher he drinks like water. When I kiss him again, I can taste it too. I nip his bottom lip and then run my tongue over it. I feel him thicken under me and little unicorn sparkles dance across my skin to congregate in my crease. And, yay me, my panties are well on their way to ew gross once again.

I probe at his lips with my tongue. He opens. We touch. I melt into his chest as I moan. Oh. God. I love kissing Collin. I nuzzle into his neck and kiss the hollow of his throat. I wish he wasn't wearing a shirt. I want to lick his pecks. I don't ever want to stop.

But I have to because Collin has stiffened and not just where I'm grinding the crotch seam of my leggings against his button fly.

"What are you doing, Kenzie?" Collin places his hands on my hips. I think he's trying to stop me from grinding.

Did I say that Collin not wanting to sex me kinda hurt? I was wrong. It fricking kills. I feel like the Metropolis phone book in Superman's hands as he tears me in half. I've wanted Collin as a boyfriend--although, not exactly like this--since I was eight.

I suck in a pained breath. My throat is in a choke hold grip. My lungs burn as my chest expands but I have to breathe. I ignore the ice pick in my heart and bring my lips back to his once more. He locks me out. I feel a wasp's sting in the corner of my eyes and then, thank God, he lets me in. I feel his thumb stoke the bare flesh just above the waist of my leggings. I don't think he's aware he's doing it. I wrap a fist around his wrist and draw his hand up the inside of my sweater.

Collin's hand is on my side. I suck in a breath. A glow warms my core. His fingers are on my ribs. I exhale in a rush. Sparkles dance across my skin. His palm is on my boob. My bra is not padded. Oh, God. My nipples pinch and it feels almost like direct contact.

"Col?"

"Yeah?" He sounds more breathless than after hurricane sprints. I can feel his heart slamming into my chest.

"I want you."

"Kenzie." My name is strangled. It sounds like I've wrapped his throat in both my fists.

"You don't want me?" Yeah, this fucking kills. Death by rejection. I hate that I can't stop grinding.

A laugh that almost sounds like a sob flies out of his chest. "Don't want you? Kenzie, can't you feel me." He thrusts his hips into my center. The ridge pressuring his fly grinds into me. Heat leaks from me and I shudder. "I want you so bad. More than I've ever wanted anything. But you're my best friend. I just got you back. I can't risk losing you... again."

Okay, that's sweet. Not what I want to hear, but sweet. The ice spike in my chest liquefies. Warmth seeps through me. I feel like slush in a pressure cooker. I rub my cheek along his jaw. Stubble scrapes me and I revel in the sensation. I kiss that tender spot just below the ear. Collin groans.

"I'm not your best friend, Collin. I'm your girlfriend. And your girlfriend needs her boyfriend to fuck her," I whisper in his ear. "I ache, for you, so bad." I pull his shirt from the waistband of his pants and run my hands up his torso. Collin's ridiculously ripped. My fingers ride eagerly over obliques, abdominals and pecs. God, I could spend a day just tracing his muscles with my fingers--and then my tongue.

But I haven't been given consent--yet. So instead of touching him where I want to, I do something different.

One of the rare positive things about @EmzyStreams was that I became comfortable with, and even learned to enjoy, a lot of things I might not have otherwise tried. I also learned that a man just can't stand to watch a woman's pleasure without participating, if he is able--thus the bell, the crinkling cellophane and shattering glass that earned me money while allowing my audience to drive me insane. I made good wages because my viewers felt the need to "help" me.

I weld my lips to Collin's once more. Making sure to push my boob into his hand, I lift my ass off his thighs and push my pants below my butt.

"What are you doing?"

I fish my fingers into my panties. I find my bud. I suck in a sharp breath. I circle clockwise, push down and then jill. "Taking care of myself," I gasp. "Since you won't."

"Fuck."

"Yes, please." I tease my fingers along my crease and then return to my clit, circling several more times.

"That's not what I meant."

Collin hasn't let go of my boob. I wonder if he knows he's gently kneading it. I want more. I wish he'd play with my nipple. I bite my lip.

"Then just watch. But if you change your mind before I get myself off, you can touch me any way you want." There. I've given him permission. I can't be any more explicit than that. I use my free hand to shove down my panties and feather a fingers along my petals until my arousal opens me on its own. I circle my entrance with a finger. A shiver runs up my spine. I clench and spill a little heat. I bring the finger of my free hand to my mouth and suck on the middle two.

The look on Collin's face is pure desire. I don't think he can decide where to look. At my eyes, at the fingers in my mouth or the fingers teasing my vagina. His second hand has worked its way under my shirt. It's hot against my boob. I jolt when he rolls both nipples at the same time. I begin to rock and I don't think I can stop.

I slip my fingers from my lips with a pop. I reach between us and wiggle them into my pleasure hole. I stop circling the fingers of my other hand and just push on my launch button. Collin's gaze is riveted to my hands so I cut off his view by leaning in to suck his bottom lip between my teeth. He groans and thrusts against me, knocking my fingers deeper. He pulls both my nipples and releases them.

My lashes flutter. Sparks pop along my spine and at the base of my brain. Pleasure knots in my chest, core and clit. I cinch down like I'm trying to crush my knuckles. Heat trickles between my fingers and slicks my palm.

I slip off Col's lap and stagger backwards towards the bed. I kick my leggings the rest of the way off. I fall back. Splay.

"Remember, Col." I push my hands between my thighs once more. I sound breathy. "Free pass." I gasp as I push into myself. "Until I come." My head drops back and I moan. It's long, loud and full of need. I make this kind of hiccup gasp at the end. I'm not faking. Performing for Collin is such a huge turn on.

Collin holds a beat. He vibrates. He breaks.

With a growl Collin throws himself on his knees beside the bed. He grabs my butt and drags me to the edge. He pushes my knees, opening me further. I perch my heels on the edge of the bed.

He leans over. I think he's going lower but he lips me right above the pinky strip of chocolate hair I maintain below my bikini line. Lots of girls do less but bare down there leaves me feeling like an eight year old. He nips and then licks me. I thrust against his chin. My womb flutters and shudders as he chuckles into me.

"Col?"

Collin licks a hot wet stripe up to my belly button. I about go insane. I rub and pinch and slide my clit between two fingers while my other hand jacks my needy hole. He pushes my sweater up over my breasts and gropes my boobs. I'm thrusting and keening and gasping. Then he pinches me through my bra.

I arc up off the bed. I'm so close. I'm about to tip. A fleshquake shivers my spine. I crash back to the mattress. I don't come.

"Oh, God." Oh is on the intake of my breath. God is on a squeaky exhale. "Oh, God. Col."

Collin pushes my bra off my breasts. I wish it'd just come off. He climbs over me and sucks a nipple between his lips.

My eyes roll up. My mouth drops open. I arc. Pop-Rock pleasure licks at my skin. I jill myself as fast as I can. At this point I don't care. Collin can drill me after I come.

Collin abandons my left boob to lip the other one. His hands move to my wrists and he pries me away from myself.

"Collin." I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, only that I'm not happy with this development. He removes my pullover and bra. Okay, I can deal with that, but then he pins my wrists above my head.

"Collin." This time I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm saying, "I want to touch myself--badly." He grins up from between my cleavage. It's like he can read my mind. He tips his head and blows a raspberry between my boobs.

For a moment, it's like there's feathers running over my skin. I twist and squeal and drum a heel. A heartbeat later I'm just arcing, desperate for contact, as Collin kisses his way towards my core. He's almost at my crease when--

"Clean?" I gasp.

Collin stills. "Yes." He releases me and starts to get up. "The results are on my phone."

I don't want him to leave me. Not even for a heartbeat. "I trust you." I tested after Luke. "I'm clean too."

He kneels back down at the base of the bed. He lowers his lips and I think he's going to return to where he left off. Not so. He kisses me there. Like right there. He licks this hot path right up my seam. I fricking lose my mind. He sucks my nub between his lips and shakes his head.

I'm thrusting. And clenching. And raking my fingers across the bed. I can barely breathe. This "uh-hu," hiccup squeak exits my mouth with every hyperventilated breath. He works a thick finger into my love tunnel and I arc. I'm balanced on my head and heels. Shoulders and hips are completely off the bed. I bear down with my core trying to capture his finger. He curls a knuckle and strokes that sensitive spot just inside and I--

And I--

And I--

Oh fuck. My brain has stopped working. My torso crashes to the bed but then picks right back up again. Fleshquakes tear through me. My eyes have rolled up. Little sparkles are dancing on every nerve. Hot wet trickles down my crack. I think it's me. I think I squirted. And--oh, God--I'm not done.

Collin curls is finger again and I--

And I--

And I--

Ohmigod! Frigging a! Fuck! My mouth is open. My brain is not working. I'm not entirely sure I managed to keep those words contained in my head. Maybe I just shout-moaned some garbled gibberish.

Collin crawls up my body. He kisses me. His chin, lips and nose are doused with my girl-juice. He seems cool with it. I'm relieved. It'd suck to chase that kind of pleasure with shame. He and I slick our tongues with each other. I taste myself. I want him in me. I grab the hem of his tee-shirt and fight it over his head. I pop the button on his fly.

"Condom?" He's clean. I'm clean. I'm on the pill. It's not enough. I freak about the possibility of a Codey repeat.

"Don't go anywhere." He stares at me until he's sure I won't move, but, like really, I was the one trying to get him to fuck me. Now he's afraid I'll bolt? Maybe I should, just to be a brat. He rips out the drawer of his nightstand. It spills on the floor. He fishes a condom from the mess. It's weird but my chest just kind of swells. He's eager. He wants me. I did that to him. I bite my lip so that maybe my heart might not explode.

He's back, kicking off his boxers and tearing open the foil. I propped myself up on my elbows and--my mouth kind of watered. Collin was tall. And musclely. And big. I'd had bigger things in me--hello, cam girl--so I wasn't scared about that. Collin just looked... tasty.

"Wait" My throat can't get pregnant. I don't need a condom to blow him. I kinda want to. I slide off the bed to my knees. I reach for him.

"Is this okay?" I say looking up at him from under my lashes. My fingers are less than an inch from my oral fixation.

"Yeah, it's okay." I fist him and then run my tongue up the underside of his shaft.

"Oh fuck, Kenzie." I love the rough rumbly choked sound of his voice. His knuckles fist in my hair. "That feels..."

Good? Amazing? Like the lips of Aphrodite? Blowing a man in not something I learned @EmzyStreams. I was always solo. A dildo is not the same, but I can improvise. I smirk, shoot him another heated glance and run my lips over his tip. Collin chokes and gives just the tiniest push. I let my mouth open.

"Oh damn. Shit. Fuck. Kenzie, how does it feel this good?"

Don't blow jobs always feel good? Isn't that the point? My mouth is full so I can't ask. I pump my fist and hum.

"Oh fuck. It's you. It's got to be you." I don't think he means to, but his hips thrust. There is tension in every line of his body and his legs are vibrating. The hand I'm not using to pump his dick kneads a boob and then drops to the top of my crease. His words are so hot. They make me feel good--special. I swallow him to the back of my throat and gulp. "Kenzie. Please, stop. I'm going to come. I don't want to. Not until I'm in you. Stop."

I swallow one last time. Vacuum seal my lips draw back, scraping my teeth over his shaft.

Collin's voice strains in a coarse groan. "McKeeeenzzzieee." I release him with a wet pop. "Fuck!" His shaft pulses. His face contorts. A heartbeat cycles where I think I'm going to get a facial. He squeezes a fist around his shaft and he almost looks pained. Oh God, Collin is good for my ego.

"Up!" The command comes out as a deep, agonized bark. I launch up on the bed and prop myself face down ass up. I wiggle my butt at him. I reach between my thighs and run my hand up my slit.

"Fuck, Kenzie. I'm trying to hold on here."

Yes, fuck Kenzie. That's exactly what I want. Collin suits up. His hands, his big, callused, manly-man hands land on my hips. He hotdogs my ass.

"So good."

Agreed, but... "It'd be better if you were in me." Now that he's got the condom on, all lights are green. I reach behind my legs so I can manhandle him into position, but, catching me by surprise, he flips me on my back.

"It would be better if I could see your face." He falls over me blanketing me in man muscle and heat. I stare up into his spiced rum eyes and, oh yeah, I like this. I can get onboard. So onboard with the whole see-his-face-thing.

He nudges me and bumps over my button. Excitement makes it knot. I came two times just minutes ago but the pleasure is coiling again. I want him in me. I angle myself when he pulls back. He catches at my entrance. I exhale. I beg him with my eyes to push in.

Oh, God. He does. Just an inch. My downstairs is like covered in girl lube but the stretch, his girth. The heat. Dildos don't duplicate the heat. I wiggle trying to force him further.

"Wait, Kenzie, please." Collin's trembling. There's sweat on his brow. "You're so tight. How are you so tight?"

It's the Kegels. Pelvic floor health, it's a thing.

"God, you feel so good."

His words make me glow. Kegels for the win. I cinch down. He slips in another inch when I release him. I feel full and stretched and three standard deviations beyond good. He pulls back an inch and pumps forward. I'm clasping and gasping. I weld my lips to his and release a moan down his throat. He pumps and I rock. My core, my clit, they all spiral tighter. My fingers crawl across his back seeking anchor.

Collin bottoms out and stalls. His expression is screwed up tight. His arms are trembling.

"Col?" I'm rocking. I'm clenching. I'm on auto-Kegel.

"Can you come again?"

"Yes." Even with him stalled, I'm climbing.

"Are you close?"

I'm not. I could lie. I could fake it. "No."

Collin rolls us. I'm astride. "Get yourself close. I'll--" I clench--auto-Kegel. "--fuck--try not to come." I place both my hands on his pecs. Those big, solid, musclely pecs. Drool pools under my tongue as I take in the view. But it's his eyes that really do it for me. Spiced rum. Glassy spiced rum right now. I rock my center against him. I feel tipsy--in the best way.

"Help me." He moves his thumb to my love button and presses. No rubbing. No jilling. Just pressure. Oh, yeah, that feels good.

But it's not enough. I've done a lot of things on @EmzyStreams. I know what gets me. I'm not going to apologize that I like it nasty. I like what I like. What's wrong with that? I lean over and kiss Collin. While he's distracted I reach behind me and finger my tail. Little electric arcs shimmy through me. I gasp. I grind. I press my boobs into his chest. I'm close, just not close enough.

I put some more pressure back there. My finger enters on an exhale.

I feel full. I like that. I can feel Collin moving on the other side of my wall. I like that more. I like it so much I wiggle another finger into me. I'm close. I'm really close. I just can't get over the edge.

"Col?" Distantly, I'm aware that one of Collin's housemates is cooking in the kitchen. The kitchen is directly below Collin's room. The microwave dings. I exhale pleasure like it was a physical thing.

"Yes?" His voice his guttural. His eyes are blissed. His expression is strained.

"I'm coming." It's not like I can stop it. I'm past the point of no return.

***

COLLIN

"I'm coming."

Thank fucking God. Since the moment I entered her, McKenzie has been clenching and grasping and fluttering about me. The noises that have come out of her mouth could've made me erupt all on their own. How I've not ruined this for her by blowing my load is beyond me. A minute ago a new sensation entered into play. I all but lost my mind. I think she shoved fingers in her ass.

That's fucking hot. Not the ass play. I could take it or leave it. But apparently Kenzie knows what she wants and she's not afraid to give it to herself. That's fucking hot.

And that thought is all it takes. Pleasure bands around my shaft and snaps. I thrust up into McKenzie so hard I have to grab her thighs to keep from bucking her off. I grunt, but the sound is a full on roar in my brain.

"McKenzie," I groan, and empty myself.

She falls into me as I continue to pump. Even when I'm done she's still trembling. She makes these little gasp-squeak hiccup sounds that are crack for my ego. I band my arms around her, pinning her to my chest, because I want her to never leave.

And that is a problem. I don't know what I want anymore. When I sign, it's almost guaranteed the NHL will take me away from the West Coast--where Kenzie is. I don't think I can pick that. But I don't want to pick her and then resent her. I don't want her to pick me and then resent me. Six years ago I put Kenzie's heart through the shredder. Now mine is in the wringer.

At long last, after a whole minute, I think, McKenzie stops shaking. She rests a moment and pries herself out of my arms. She's right there, and I'm aching for my loss.

She holds out her hand. "Let me take care of the condom. I need to wash." I have my own bathroom, en-suite, but the rest of the guys have to share. She disappears behind the door.

The water runs. She comes back. Kenzie is still as naked as the day she was born but way fucking sexier. She climbs onto the bed, manhandles my arm and curls up next to me. My bicep is her pillow. I'd slipped under the bedsheet for warmth while she was away and she pulls it up to her shoulders. The fingers of one of her hands absently walk over my chest.

"Thank you," she mumbles. I lift a brow. If anyone should be thanking someone it should be me thanking her. "I wanted to have a little fun. I didn't think I'd come. And three times, you stud."

"You didn't?" Even I hear the shock in my voice. I pin my chin to my shoulder so I can look down at her where she's curled into my side. McKenzie must feel me shift because her head pivots on my arm until she's looking up at me. Her eyes, her nose, her lips are right there. An inch closer and I could kiss her.

Her cheeks pink. "I don't usually come with guys."

Fuck if that doesn't make me feel good. "Luke wasn't doing it for you?"

"Why are we talking about Luke?"

Good point. I'm a fucking idiot.

"Codey did it for me, but that didn't end well."

Yeah, I got that. I still don't know what happened. I want to, but I don't think this is the time to ask. She'll tell me when she's ready.

"So what do you do?"

Kenzie bites her lip and my dick surges. This girl, my BFF, she does it for me. No girl--woman--has ever made me feel this way. She tucks her face back into the side of my chest. I already miss her gaze on me. I can no longer lose myself in the jade depths of her eyes.

"I had @EmzyStreams. If it can be done solo, or with a remote audience, I've probably done it." I hear embarrassment in her voice. She has no reason to be embarrassed. I was so turned on by her confidence earlier. "I have like fifty types of vibrators, plugs, dildos, clamps, Kegel balls, and clit pumps. I make do."

"What was the hardest part of @EmzyStreams?" I'm honestly curious. I don't think there's anything wrong with what she did but I get that it was probably hard. I don't want to make her uncomfortable and I tell her that.

"I think--" Kenzie snuggles into me a little more. "--doing it the first time. The fear of discovery. It was almost as hard as walking out on stage at Sisters Exposed. It ended better though. Way better. I got paid."

Fire blossoms in my chest. A cave-man impulse to protect. "You didn't get paid?" The words come out rumbly. Growly. McKenzie's gaze jerks up to meet my eyes.

"I got paid. It was what I agreed to. Things just didn't go as I expected."

Okay, that was fair. Not really. But at least I didn't have to go kill someone. Today.

"My most embarrassing show was this time I went out in public with this remote vibe lodged in me." I know what she's doing. She's trying to distract me. It's working. "I had to film it, without letting anyone know what I was doing, while my audience tried to make me come. I came. In my pants. At By George. While my server was handing me my check."

"You came at By George?" By George was a campus diner with a view of Mt. Washington to the north. I have a new favorite diner. I would love to have seen her come. I want to be the one that makes her come.

McKenzie bites her lip and blushes this pretty shade of pink. It's fucking cute.

"I've never been able to go back."

Yeah, that's what she thinks. A chuckle rolls in my chest. If there's any way, any how, I'm going to get a repeat performance, except, I'm going to be the one holding the controls.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Nope." I can't hold my smile though.

She pokes me in the ribs. "You dumbhead." It's her name for me, from when we were kids. She's smiling. "Actually," she says, "that's not the most embarrassing thing." She pops up on her seat and the sheet slides off her. I could get used to this view. "Did you hear the microwave ding?"

What is she talking about?

"Right before I came?"

I have no clue. My confusion must be written on my face.

"Have you ever watch @EmzyStreams?"

I shake my head. "No."

She cocks her head, like the different angle will help her see me better. Her dark chocolate tresses fall over her shoulder and curtain one of her perfect perky tits. "Why not?"

"Because it didn't seem cool. You're my friend. You might've been showing yourself to the world but I needed permission to intrude on you like that," I tell her.

She gnaws her lip. I think she's pleased, but I'm not sure. "Okay. Cool. You have permission. While we're dating. I've not been able to use the room, not since the shout out at the wedding. I'm too embarrassed. I have these nightmares that someone I know is watching. But @EmzyStreams has been saved to the eternal-smut-net, so it's still out there. In fact, I want you to watch it. I don't want you wanking off to any other girl."

Like that's going to happen--ever. McKenzie has left a permanent mark on me. And my dick. I'm pretty sure it has imprinted on her pussy, like in one of those werewolf-vampire-gag-me novels all the girls were into during high school.

Kenzie hops off the bed and retrieves her laptop. She slides back beside me and pulls the bedspread over her lap. Considering how unhappy she was with Luke's shout out at the wedding and that I don't want anyone watching McKenzie but myself, it's depressing how easily she finds videos of herself. She turns the screen towards me and presses play.

I won't deny it. My girl is fire. I'm not big on porn. I don't have to be. I get plenty in real life but I won't lie, I'd pay to watch that. I'd pay to make McKenzie come.

I glance at the real thing. She's pink and I don't think this is as easy for her as she wants me to believe. I lean over and kiss her cheek.

"You don't have to show me."

She side-eyes me and huffs. It flutters a lock of her hair. Her shoulders slump and I think I detect relief. She jumps the video play bar to the three-quarters point. On the screen she's writhing on the edge of control. I'm harder than a fucking basalt pillar. There's a noise like shattering glass and Kenzie's mouth pops open. Her eyes roll up. She makes those little gasp-squeak sounds. She comes--explosively. Beside me, the real life, I-just-want-to-touch-her--and maybe fuck her--girl shimmies. She pauses the video.

"What did you see?"

"The most beautiful woman on the planet."

McKenzi'se head whips around to face me. Her hair lashes me. I don't think she knows her smile is stretched from ear to ear.

"What made me come?"

I lower my brow and deadpan. "The vibrator." I mean, come on, I can see the little pink tail sticking out of that space between her thighs.

"That was part of it. What did you hear?"

Her gasps. Her hiccups. Her moans. I'm so hard my dick might explode.

McKenzie smirks. She reaches out and pats me where I've tented the fabric of the bedcovers. "Not those sounds. The other sounds."

I think about it. I heard shattering glass, and before that, a bell? Something else?

"A bell? The tip notification bell?"

Kenzie nods. She bites her lip. She's pink again. Have I mentioned that she's fucking cute? Sexy as hell one moment. Cute the next. Devastating combo.

"I'm like Pavlov's stupid dog. I hear a bell and I drool." She points at her lap. "Down there."

Oh. My. Fucking. God. The power she has handed me.

"Do you know how many things go ding in this world? Microwaves. Phones. Elevators. Toaster ovens. Refrigerators left open too long. Fricking seatbelt alarms."

My mind is reeling. I wonder if she'll let me program her phone with a personalized notification. I could use shattering glass. Or that other sound and shattering glass. Or, fuck it, a whole series of dings and shattering glass. It's hard to believe I was all about keeping my hands off her an hour ago.

She looks at me like she can read my mind. She probably can. The only thing in it is how bad I want to perv on her.

"You do not--" Kenzie says the words in her woman-means-business voice. "--have permission to ding me in front of my dad. In front of your dad. With my brothers. Coach. With a professor. Anyone who has anything to do with my career. While I'm at work. While I'm in class. While I'm taking tests."

Does that mean I can ding her in front of everyone else? Her sisters? "What about the team?" I know the team is technically her job but the thought of making her squirm for me is just too much.

She pauses. She bites her lip.

Holy fuck, she's thinking about it. McKenzie is into this.

Kenzie's hand moves over my lap. She fists me under the sheet. I just about come off the bed. "Players only. No one else."

I nod, because when she strokes me, I forget how to speak. She pulls back the bedclothes and leans over my lap. She throws her hair over one shoulder and shoots me an impish glance.

"The score is three-to-one. It's time I even the odds." Wet heat engulfs me all the way to the fist she has wrapped around my base.

Okay. Sure. Even the score. I'm up for that.

Thanksgiving

Collin

I shift uncomfortably. Not meaning to, I kick the back of Kenzie's seat. Even with her seat's backrest between us my knees must be knobby lumps digging into her spine.

McKenzie twists to face me. "Do we need to trade places?" She'd tried to give me the passenger seat when we'd left campus, but I'm a gentleman.

"No, I'm fine. You like the butt warmer." I shift around some more. I disconnect my seatbelt and adjust. The seatbelt alarm, of course, goes off. Kenzie glowers. If I hadn't been paying attention I wouldn't have seen the momentary flutter of lashes. I click my seatbelt back in place.

"You did that on purpose." Kenzie's voice is the kind of growl only a woman can pull off.

I did. I had. I'm not sorry. My lips twitch.

"Children, don't make me pull over," Roman snarks from behind the wheel of his Ford Raptor. It's the day before Thanksgiving and we, like half of our professors, are playing hooky. We have back-to-back games Friday and Saturday on the East Coast. Because McKenzie doesn't have a lot of time to get home and then back on campus, she's spending the holiday with me and Dad. Because I haven't replaced the Pathfinder yet, Roman's dropping us off at Sun River on his way to Klamath Falls. Dad will drive us back.

I glance outside thinking about another time McKenzie and I were in a car together. There's snow, but not an excessive amount. It's sunny and bluebird bright. Nothing is like the conditions McKenzie and I faced after her sister's wedding but...

Broken Top blocks our entire view to the west. Basalt crags bite the sky. There's glaciers up there. I've never heard of it happening, but if one of them were to let loose, we could be in its path. I don't usually worry about uncontrollable crap like that but Kenzie has changed everything. I can't almost lose her again. Next time it might not be almost.

There's a chance she broke me.

Like how her pussy broke me. Since last week, getting in her again is the only thing I can think about. Do I think about the dream I've pursued since I was a kid? Do I think about hockey? During practice? During the games? Sometimes? Maybe?

Not at all. My performance hasn't suffered--yet--but I'm worried it will, because that is the kind of crap I do worry about. I want NHL so bad it hurts. I want Kenzie more than I want my next heartbeat. I don't know how I survived the last six years without her.

Roman merges onto Cascade Lakes Scenic Byway near Mt. Bachelor Ski Resort and forty minutes later he is dropping us off at my Dad's place in Sun River. I make sure to pop my seatbelt before we come to a full stop. I grab our bags and Roman, the dick, takes off. I hope I have my key because Dad's not off work yet.

"Wow." McKenzie rubber-necks--the snow--the pines--the river. Dad's modest home blends right in with its log cabin styled construction. "When did you move to Sun River?"

I drop our bags on the porch. "Dad moved here after I started college. It's a longer commute but..." I wave my arm trying to encompass the ambiance. I let us in.

It's not a big place. Dad doesn't need much. It's cozy and warm with the whole hunting lodge feel, complete with a mule deer mount, an antelope mount and cougar-skin rug.

"You killed Bambi," McKenzie says in mock horror. At least I think it's mock. I hope it's mock because I doubt Dad is cooking up turkey tomorrow. It's probably grouse or chukar or a whole covey of quail. Kenzie slowly moves into the room checking out photos of Dad and I, Bambi and a bucket of pinecones the size of footballs. The pinecones are from sugar pines and I have a bad habit of picking them up every time I find one that's intact. She stops to take in the view beyond the sliding glass door.

There aren't any houses backing up to Dad's place and the Deschutes River is about fifty yards beyond the deck. "Your dad's place is beautiful. It's so quiet."

Yup, that's probably one of the best things about staying here. I've been in campsites on the river that are noisier than here. I can't wait to get her in the hot tub. I'll turn the jets off and hold her while we just listen to the river flow. I lead her upstairs to my room.

Well, her room, on this trip, because I'll be staying downstairs in Dad's office on the futon. I think we both would've liked to sleep together but my dad knows her dad. They were neighbors for more than ten years in Bend and, honestly, it's hard not to be friends with Todd, McKenzie's dad. So my dad and her dad are friends. They'd reunited when McKenzie and I were in the hospital. They've stayed in touch since. Kenzie's a little squirrely about reminding her dad that she's sexually active. No blame here. I think the mortification of him learning about @EmzyStreams is still eating her, so that's that.

McKenzie falls completely silent as she steps into the room. I've never lived in it other than a week here or there during school breaks but my Dad brought a lot of my junk from our old place in Bend. She scans my hockey trophies. She touches more than thirty of them. She runs her fingers over my old Letter Jacket, thumbing each of the bars. She went to Summit High for four months before her family moved to Florence. She rolls a puck in her hand before putting it back on my dresser. It's from the last time I took to the ice in high school. All my friends had signed it.

"I remember this." There's an odd note in her voice. She has plucked a picture from the top of my nightstand.

It's me and McKenzie. It's summer. We were thirteen. Dad had taken us on a five day hike along the Pacific Crest Trail. The picture is from the top of South Sister. It was mere months before I shattered her heart. It's my last truly happy memory of us from before. I have other pictures of young McKenzie but that was the one that stayed by my bed all through high school. I used to turn it face down when I'd jack off. I didn't want her to see me when I was perving on other girls.

"It was a good trip." I had to clear my throat before I was able to speak.

"I missed this. I missed--" Her gaze slides up to mine and there's pain there. "--us."

"Yeah." I drop her travel bag at the foot of the bed and run my hand through my hair. Me too, Kenzie. Me too.

She steps into my chest and wraps her arms around me. There's this pain right behind my sternum and I think it might crack. I cling, because what else am I going to do? She rubs her face against my chest, releases me and leaves the room.

"What's for lunch?" McKenzie asks like she hadn't just pulled the entire floor out from under me, subfloor and all.

We first got together when we were four. Yet, somehow I've still missed too much of this woman's life. I know it's not possible, but I don't want to miss another second. I'm never going to be able to let McKenzie go. I might be in love.

We head down to the kitchen. "What do you want?"

"PB&J."

I chuckle, because how had I not seen that coming? She's reminiscing and that had been our go-to lunch.

"Oooh, do you have blackberry jam?" That'd always been her favorite.

"Probably." I start opening cupboards.

We make our lunch and eat it too. I want to find an app that goes ding, because every time she licks her fingers it does things to me. She notices me staring so the next time she cleans her fingers, she makes it pornographic. Now all I can think about is bending her over the counter.

But I have other obligations. Dad is cooking tomorrow. Tonight, I owe him dinner. I dig around in the pantry and find all the ingredients to my mother's Mexican lasagna. It's one of the few things she left us that we both still love. It's lasagna pasta, co-jack, refried beans, ground beef, salsa, stewed tomatoes, diced onions, diced olives and taco seasoning. It does not fit on any portion of my dietician's plan but what is the point of hyper-health if you can never enjoy it? Besides, I won't be allowed to sleep in the same room with Kenzie tonight so my olfactory nerves should be safe. I can't believe she let me take the blame that night in Lucas's jeep. It was so tempting to out her but she'd already had a miserable night. I did not need to add to that, no matter how hard she was laughing at us fools.

I start getting things ready.

"You cook?"

I throw the lasagna noodles in a pot and grease a casserole dish with coconut oil. "Dad and I took a class when I was in high school. I was playing hockey all the time so we were hardly ever seeing each other. He claimed it was a father-son thing." I huff. "I think he was just tired of takeout."

"Can I help?"

"Sure"

I quickly discover that McKenzie's kitchen skills are pretty basic. That's okay. It's a pretty basic recipe. The only hard part is spreading the refried bean layer without wrecking the layer below. I find some ground venison in the deep freeze, which I substitute for the beef called for by the recipe. After a cheater defrost in the nuker, I have her brown it. When it's oven ready we cover it and put it in the fridge for baking later. Kenzie seems almost shell shocked.

"That was... fun." She glances between me and the dish we'd just created. "Should we bake some pies or something for dessert tomorrow?"

I was just going to borrow Dad's truck and run into a store but...

"Sure, why not? If we have the ingredients." I flip through Dad's Betty Crocker for a recipe but it turns out we don't have what we need for pumpkin. But we do have a whole bunch of frozen blackberries Dad and I picked one day last summer. Big plump ones. They grow wild in parts of Oregon. Many people consider them a weed. McKenzie and I decide to make a couple of blackberry pies. As much as she likes blackberry jam, she should love blackberry pies.

Dad doesn't have any pie crusts but that's okay. Between me and Betty Crocker we should be able to make our own from scratch. This turns out to be more fun than I anticipated. We make a mess. Kenzie keeps flicking little puffs of flour at me. I retaliate by tickling her. Her joy is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. I want to record it so I can listen to it all the time.

McKenzie rolls out the dough. I stand behind her gauging the pressure and guiding her hands. She leans back into my chest, cocks her head and smiles up at me. "Thank you."

I have no idea what she's thanking me for. What I do know is that I need to kiss her. I lean down. Our lips touch. I share her air.

It's better than breathing. More intimate than sex. The kiss contains the same sparks of passion and lust that always surge through me but this time there's a soft gentleness that I can't describe. I feel full. Expansive. More than just complete. McKenzie is more than a missing piece. She multiplies me.

Kenzie breaks the kiss first. She scans my face. There's a glint in her jade eyes I can't cypher. A little pink touches her cheeks and she ducks behind her hair.

"Do we... do we have too much?"

It takes me a moment to figure out what Kenzie's asking. "There's no such thing as too much pie crust." I made extra intentionally, because too little is a pain in the ass and too much--add little cinnamon and brown sugar, tarts baby. We lay the crust and pour the filling. I don't try to cut any fancy vents in the upper crust, I just use a fork to punch some holes. There are two pies and McKenzie copies me except she makes a pattern that looks a bit like a flower--or maybe cannabis. God, I wonder what this girl is like high? I wonder if that's something she does--or did. Weed is legal here but that's not something I'm into. She always smells like lilac and rhododendron so I'm guessing she's not either.

We clean the kitchen. Then ourselves. Then our clothes, because after our little flour war they need to be cleaned too. I'm coming out of Dad's office, my temporary bedroom, just as Dad lets himself into the house.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hi Dad." We do a shoulder-to-shoulder macho side hug thing.

"Something smells amazing."

"Kenzie and I made pies for tomorrow. We used the blackberries you and I picked last summer. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not."

"We made some tarts that we can throw in the oven for dessert later."

"I knew those cooking classes would pay off someday."

I shake my head.

Dad smells like pine sap and sawdust. As far as industrial scents go, it's not bad. There are definitely worse ones. Paper mill comes to mind. He puts his stuff up. We move into the great room. McKenzie comes down the stairs. She's fresh from a shower. She's wearing leggings and some body contouring sweater. Her silhouette is drool worthy. My dick notices. I drop behind my father to rearrange myself.

"McKenzie, so good to see you, and in better health, I trust."

"It's good to see you too, Mr. Kimball. Your place is so nice."

"You know better than that." My Dad's voice is gruff but playful.

McKenzie's lips twitch. "Sorry, Stephen."

"That's better. Now if you two will excuse me, I'm going to go clean up and we can see about ordering dinner. Tomorrow's the big thing so is it okay if we order pizza?"

"Kenzie and I made lasagna."

"Launna's?"

That's my mother's name. My memories of her are vague. She left Dad when I was quite young. My memories of the devastation she left behind are vivid. She hasn't even tried to stay in contact. She could be passed for all the contact we've had.

"Yeah."

"I love that lasagna." I do too. I wonder though, if Dad meant more. I glance at McKenzie. If she left me, I'd never get over it. I never got over it the first time even though I'm the asshat that hurt her first.

Dad heads up for the shower he sorely needs. Even though he's a supervisor, a sawmill is not a clean place to work. McKenzie and I settle on the sectional and look for hockey on TV. It's the West Coast. All we find is football. Dad rejoins us after a bit. I mute the television and we chat.

After we catch up, we throw the lasagna in the oven and Dad chops up our favorite cucumber, tomato and avocado salad. Italian to go with our Mexitallian. I jump in his old Ford and go to pick up some French bread. I cheat and get the stuff with the garlic butter pre-spread. Dad and I do this onion butter thing we like better but, tonight, it's not worth the work. I'm sure Dad will do that tomorrow.

When I get home McKenzie has both elbows propped on the granite. Her chin rests on her hands. She's smiling dreamily while Dad tells her this ridiculous story. He's getting dishes down for our meal.

"We were camped at the bend just beyond Sparrow Rock. You remember Sparrow Rock, right? Just below White Horse?"

Sparrow Rock is not actually an official name, it's just a name we use because there's often like a million of these little mud hut sparrow nests attached to the side of the rock. The rock itself is a cliff that juts into the river. The drop is right around a hundred feet but the water's deep so we sometimes jump. McKenzie nods but I can't tell if she actually remembers the rock or is just encouraging my dad to keep the story moving.

"Well there was this other group of boaters we'd kind of joined with because campsites were limited. There was this girl there, Sarah, she was way out of Collin's league."

I prep the bread and toss it in the oven. I check the lasagna as I do so. It's about ready. "No woman is out of my league."

"She was twenty-two. You were fifteen."

Okay, she had been out of my league, but that tiny black and white thong bikini had been fire. I was a boy. Sue me.

"He decided to impress her."

"Dad."

"Tried to do this triple flip off Sparrow Rock." Dad pauses for dramatic effect. He's really not as funny as he thinks he is. "He belly flopped."

McKenzie curls up on her bar stool and starts shaking like she's trying not to laugh. "Ohmigod. Ow."

"You think?" I say.

"Oh, it gets better."

"Dad."

Kenzie shoots me a glance from between her fingers. She's still shaking. She sounds strangled when she says, "How?"

"He somehow loses his shorts. He sits in the river as long as he can, but you know, it's cold, so he has to eventually climb out--we're all watching. Sarah walks up and dangles him a towel. He--"

"Dad!" This part's not true. At least I don't want it to be true, but it lives forever in my humiliation. "Kenzie doesn't want to hear this."

"Yes I do."

"It's a stupid story."

"It's hilarious." That's Dad. "Anyhow, teen boy that he was, he popped a boner."

"Ohmigod," McKenzie wheezes. I don't remember her having asthma but I wonder if we need to get her an inhaler or something. "I so wish I'd seen that."

"Every dude was popping a boner," I gripe. "That thing she had on was barely a swimsuit."

Dad pretends to go thoughtful. Or maybe not. Maybe he's visiting his spank bank--not that I want to think about Dad having a spank bank, but I know he does, he's a man. "It didn't leave a lot to the imagination, did it?"

"That's priceless." She can barely talk. Her eyes are leaking.

"McKenzie has a pants-less story too." Her laughter dies. Her face turns white. I realize she thinks I'm going to pull a Luke and out her on @EmzyStreams. I'd never do that to her, but this... "Roman showed me, on Facebook or Snapchat--a throwback Thursday or some shit." The color returns to her face but now she's looking at me puzzled. That makes it better. She doesn't know where this is going. "She was snowboarding." Kenzie's mouth drops open. She violently shakes her head. "You were what sixteen--seventeen? God, she was hot back then." If she was hot then, she's an inferno now.

"Seventeen." She looks aghast. I don't think she meant to say that. Her gaze flies to my Dad. "Wait, no, this didn't happen."

"How do you lose your pants snowboarding? Wouldn't they get stuck around your ankles or something?" Dad askes.

McKenzie puts her face in her hands. "It was exactly like that. I was going really fast. Too fast. I lost control. Fell down. The snow ran right up my butt. Ripped my pants down."

I only saw the picture but that's so not true. At all. First off, she was not on the ground, she was in the air, doing a three sixty or lux or some stunt in the half-pipe. Secondly, her pants were not around her ankles. They were completely off. She had to have removed them. She might've been wearing a bikini or she might've been wearing panties. I couldn't tell. I didn't correct her. Kenzie can't meet my eyes and she's totally pink.

Dad chuckles. "Well, I guess we all have our little mishaps." The oven dings. McKenzie sucks in a sharp breath. Dad doesn't notice. "Shall we have dinner?"

We eat. I think the meal tastes better than ever before. It might be the people I'm eating with. It might be the person who helped me make it. Even though we cooked, Kenzie and I help clean up. We make a good team, I think. Football is still on but we don't really watch. Dad asks after all of McKenzie's siblings. The evening evolves into laughter, chat and stories.

When Dad excuses himself to take care of business, Kenzie motions toward the sliding glass door with her head. "Hot tub?"

I'd told her to bring her bathing suit. I hope it's the string bikini she wore on the beach at the start of the quarter. I agree. We get ready. When she joins me in the tub, I'm not disappointed. A moan slips from her throat as she sinks into the tub up to her chin. I leave the jets off so we can soak in the sounds of the river and silent woodland night. The hovering mist rising from the tub obscures the heavens, but every time a breath of chill air puffs our way, the stars blaze overhead.

"Today was fun." McKenzie scooches her sexy curves up next to me. Her head pillows on my shoulder.

It has been. I could definitely do today again. I could do every day with Kenzie. "I'm glad you could come."

McKenzie cuddles closer. Her lips feather against my jaw. "It's beautiful." She's looking at the star spangled sky.

I'm not.

Confession

McKenzie

Dinner had been good. Extraordinary. I've never had roast chukar--Thanksgiving or otherwise. Stephen and Collin had fixed all the normal trimmings to boot. There was so much food. My family would have demolished it. There wouldn't have been a crumb left. But Stephen, Collin and I were only three. There were leftovers. I was stuffed.

That was hours ago. Since then there'd been football. An hour of a domino game Collin called Mexican Train. Another hot-tub make-out soak. Now it was dark outside. Stephen was snoring in the next room. I was no longer full to the brim. I want Collin.

I slip out of bed and ease the door open. I pause and wait for Stephen's next snore. I pad down the staircase. I'd already identified the step that creaked--and skip it. Making my way to Mr. Kimball's office, I let myself in.

Collin's asleep, I think. I lift the covers and slip onto the futon beside him.

"Kenzie?" His voice is sleepy. I snuggle up and try to spoon but he rolls to face me. "What are you doing?"

I want to roll my eyes but it's dark. His face is a bit blurry because I'm not wearing my glasses but I imagine he can't see me much better than I can see him. I shush him with a kiss.

His lips are soft, pliant and sleepy. I explore their seam with my tongue. He brushed his teeth but I can still taste him under the mint. A hum pressures my chest so I release it into his mouth. I press a hand to his pecs. He's not wearing a shirt so I let myself roam.

A beat passes. Collin kisses me back. For a breathless moment, he fingers the hem of my nightshirt before his big, rough, calloused, manly-man hands run up my side. I shiver. My own exploration dips south. He cups a breast. I cup his manhood. It swells, hot, under my palm.

"I missed you," I say against his lips. It was true. I'd been one floor away and I'd missed him.

Collin kisses me deeply. Our tongues explore. When he pulls back, I'm breathless. My ribs are a butterfly cage. There's this warm La Croix fizzle in my core. Collin's fingers trail over me and swirl around my belly button. My belly hollows. He traces lower.

"You're not wearing panties." His whisper is loud with shock.

"Huh--" My voice is barely audible. "--I hadn't noticed."

"You're killing me, Kenzie."

"I can leave." I pretend to climb out of bed. Collin drags me up against his chest. I can feel his erection against my center so I slanted my hips so his cock is sitting, like, right there. I'm probably leaving a wet spot on the crotch of his boxer briefs. He'd better appreciate it. My insides simmer as my clit sparks against the cotton of his shorts. My boobs feel five pounds too heavy. Our kisses become more heated.

He slides his hand under my shirt once more. He thumbs a nipple. I break our kiss on a gasp. He kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He sucks that tender spot beside the collar bone. I feel his teeth, but he does not bite. I squirm. I've been dreaming of a Collin repeat for a week. Literally. As in, I've been having orgasm dreams. I want him in me. I want to feel stretched. I want to feel full. My fingers don't quite cut it. My dildos don't quite cut it. They're not Collin.

"Condom?"

Collin freezes, his thumb on my nipple, his lips on that tender spot below my ear. "No."

"What?" In my shock, I struggle to control my voice. "Aren't you hockey fuck boys like Boy Scouts? Always prepared?" I'm also a little meaner than I mean to be.

"I didn't want the temptation."

I know what he's saying, but I'm a little hurt. I'm insane that way. "I'm not temptation?"

"Fuck, Kenzie, you know you are. The biggest temptation. But Dad's house. Your dad's his friend. They've reconnected. They talk. Since the hospital. Your dad is concerned for you. You know he knows you're here. You know Dad is reporting back. I didn't want to make things harder. I didn't want to do that to you."

Okay. I can live with that. It's sweet. Mostly. I still want him to fuck me, because, you know, insane. I just can't do p-in-v. Not without a condom. Frigging a!

That gives me an idea. "Do you have lube?"

Collin props himself up on one elbow so he can frown down at me. "Why would I have lube? Why would we need it? The heat I feel through my boxers tells me you're lubed enough."

"For my butt." I've never had a man there, but there will be a first time. You might forget your best time--who remembers their ninth kiss--but you never forget your first time. I'd like it to be with Collin, so why not tonight? "Olive oil. Almond oil. Aloe Vera. They all work. I like coconut oil best. It stays... lubier longer."

There's a sharp intake of breath. It's like looking through water--because, no glasses--but my gaze locks on Collin's eyes. I expect to see lust. And I see it. I see conflict too.

Heat rushes through me. My embarrassment floods me from cheeks to ass. "I--we don't have to." I pull back. He doesn't let me. I try to hide.

"Kenzie--" His voice is gentle. "--look at me."

I shake my head.

"McKenzie, please."

I squeak my eyes open, just a little. My hair has fallen in front of my face so that gives me some shelter. Collin's staring down at me. Concern is written on his every feature.

"It's not that I don't want you there. I do. What you did to yourself last week was incredibly hot. I've never done something like that. I've never wanted to. But I want to, with you. Just... maybe not spur of the moment? You caught me off guard. I might need some time to prepare."

That was fair. More than fair. I'm still embarrassed. A lot.

"Is there a reason you wanted this tonight? Why you want me in your ass?"

I feel vulnerable--exposed. This conversation could go someplace I don't want to go. I could lie. But it's Collin. I don't want to.

"I want you. We don't have a condom. My butt can't get pregnant."

"You said you were on the pill?" His words are gentle. They're not an accusation. They're a question.

"Sex without a condom scares me."

Col uses his thumb to comb the hair out of my face. I feel myself trembling against the pad of his finger.

"Why?"

Yup, exactly where I didn't want to go. I've never told anyone this story. Too many people know it anyway. My words spill from me in a rush. "I got pregnant once."

Collin just nods. No questions. No judgment. No rush. He's just listening. I cycle a grounding breath.

"Codey had a condom. We--I got carried away. I was so eager. He was too. It wasn't our first time so it wasn't like we didn't know if it would be good. We knew it would be good. I was so into him." A little sob escapes. I don't want to have sex anymore. Not tonight. I just want to be held. I duck my head into Collin's chest. "He reminded me of you." I'm ashamed of that, because Codey was a good man.

Collin lies back down, making it easier to cuddle. He strokes my hair.

"He tried to take care of me. I didn't want him to quit school. He went to the doctor with me. Held my hand when we were told we were having twins. My brothers found out and they made it hard for him to be with me. I was so scared. I didn't fight for him. On a scale of one-to-ten my mother's hate went from ten to like four-million. Dad and Codey were the only ones on my side. Why does my mother hate me?"

He's still stroking me. "I don't know, Kenzie. I don't know."

"She tells me I'm the devil's child."

"Fuck, Kenzie." I hear pain in his voice. Pain for me. It makes it easier to continue.

"I don't want babies. Children. I don't want to be Mother."

"You'd never be your mother. You're not capable of that shit."

"I miscarried."

Collin kisses the top of my head. "That doesn't make you your mother."

"It was horrible. Not normal. A partial miscarriage my OBG said." Twins. I think it was my fear. It's like my body killed both. "It almost killed me. I needed a blood transfusion and everything."

I feel the surge in Collin's chest. His breath washes over my head.

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit." I cycle a breath. I feel like there's a mastodon sitting on my chest. "OBG said it was a fluke. That I'm safe. That it probably won't happen again. But I'm scared. I can't have p-in-v without a condom. Not yet."

He curls his body around me. "I get it, Kenzie. I've got you."

I snuggle. I close my eyes. Collin's got me. It's everything I've ever wanted.

Boston

McKenzie

Oh. My. God. It's loud in here. Thunderous. NASCAR. Rocket launch. Hockey is not like this on the West Coast. Not enough maniac fans. I'm so excited. It's fricking fun!

There's less than a minute left in the first period. There's no score. The puck is in the Red Wolves' defensive zone. Kilgore, a Boston forward, is open. I'm supposed to be crunching stats but I scream right along with every other fan. I'm in a box with the rest of the support staff. There's not a single one of us in our seats. I don't think the Red Wolf defense hears me.

They don't. Kilgore is still open when he's passed the puck. He launches a slap shot missile.

But they could model a missile defense system on O'Brey. He catches it and tosses it out. Collin and Kilgore face off. Col takes the puck. The biscuit goes to Silas. Silas to Roman. Roman to Collin. Collin crosses the blue line. He's on a breakaway! I want to scream. But I saw something. I have a job to do.

I find my boss, Eric. "That was Kilgore's fifth slap shot." Which is odd, because Kilgore's wrist shot is a bullet. "He was shaking his glove like his hand pained him just before the face off. I think he's favoring his wrist."

The stadium roars so loud the box rattles. I can't hear the buzzer but I don't have to look to know I missed a goal. I catch the replay on the Jumbotron as my observation is relayed to Coach. It's a thing of beauty. A Lucas goal. A Collin assist. My boy plays well with others. I'm so turned on right now.

We, me and the other interns, are told to keep our eyes on Kilgore. I take my seat as the period ends. Rachit leans into me. He's tallish--I guess. His heritage is Indian. As in, India Indian, not Native American. He's lanky. I'd like him but I think he has a thing for me. I heard he had something to do with me being hired so I owe him, I do, but it kind of sucks when someone's into you when you're not into them. One way attraction blows chunks. I know. I was like that with Collin.

"Nice call," he tells me. I smile weakly. I don't want to be rude, but I don't want to be encouraging.

"Thank you." I don't pout because I don't need to channel my April, but I try to let my expression fall. I'm going for gloomy. "But I missed my boyfriend's assist."

"Boyfriend?"

I pretend I don't know where the sour note in his voice is coming from. "Yes, Col and I. We're a thing."

"I didn't know."

"Well," I say brightly--too brightly, "we are."

"Oh, okay." He gets up and covers his disappointment by looking for a drink. The Coke in his seat's cup holder is half-full. I feel bad.

Yup, for sure, one way attraction, no doubt about it, blows chunks. Fortunately the team comes back from the locker and the energy in the arena ramps back up. By the time the second period puck drops my ears are again ringing from the crowd's rocket launch roar. If I was smart, I'd invest in some earplugs.

"Hey, is that--" I stop mid-sentence. Rachit has not retaken the seat next to me. He's down at the other end of the box. I seek out one of the older staffers.

I tap Eric's shoulder. "I thought I saw Boyd Walker on the Jumbotron." Mr. Walker was a player a few years ago. He retired and became a scout for the Rangers. I wonder if the team knows. Collin would be thrilled. I know he feels like he doesn't get enough exposure. He shouldn't worry. Collin's getting scalped. A team wants him. I know it.

"You've got a good eye."

Sure, maybe, when my contacts are in. I just think I'm a mega fan--a mega fan that pays attention.

Eric's still speaking. "The Islanders are here too. There's a rumor the Devils are in the stands as well."

When my attention returns to the game, it's obvious that Collin and the boys are onto Kilgore. That's bad news for Boston. They pull their fastest skater. The Red Wolves manage to dominate the puck. Boston's line is frustrated. Boston defense digs in. The second period ends with no additional points on the board.

Kilgore is back on at the beginning of the third. Seconds after the puck drops, he fires a bullet on goal and scores. The game is tied. High energy already, the game becomes super charged. Roman pulls a penalty. The boys stop the power play. The clock winds down. "A thump, thump, boom! Thump, thump, boom!" clap-stomp chant starts up. I swear the stadium is shaking as much as I do when Collin makes me come.

There's ten seconds on the clock. Boston is in our D-zone. Collin's line is on their second shift. Roman and Boston's forty-two slingshot behind the net. Roman strips the puck. He flips the biscuit to Collin.

Half of Boston is between Collin and their net. He fakes Kilgore. He decks Watson. His skates kick up glitter dust he's so fast. Lightening couldn't catch him. Thirty-four doesn't stand a chance. He's across the blue line all alone. The entire stadium is on its feet. There's three seconds on the clock. I'm jumping up and down. I'm screaming so loud I won't have a voice tomorrow. He bears down on the net. Fires a wrist rocket. Maxwell's glove is too slow. The lamp lights. Goal! Pandemonium erupts. The game is over.

We're giddy. I feel high. Everyone is back clapping. There's a lot of hugs. When Rachit releases me he says, "Your boy did it." He's smiling.

My ears hurt. There's a chance I'm grinning like a fool.

***

COLLIN

New England is cold, but I'm cooking. Coach requires us to don suits post game in case of interviews. It makes us look professional. It's like being in a sauna.

Despite the time in the lockers, my heart is still crashing, my adrenaline is still high and my three piece suit is wool. With or without Kilgore, Boston had played to win. They had wanted it, bad. We had just wanted it more.

I scan the crowd for McKenzie. I want to celebrate. I see her waiting in the wings but a woman with a local press badge stops me. She wants to know about my final breakaway. I talk about Roman. How he was bubblegum in seventy-five's hair. How he got stick-on-puck. How he flipped the biscuit to me. Sure, I made the final run-on-goal but Roman not only stopped a Boston goal but made it possible for me to score. She lets me go. I beeline for Kenzie. She throws herself into my arms.

"What an amazing game!" She's vibrating as though she can't contain her excitement. For a moment I think she's going to do that thing girls do where they're essentially sprinting in place while they squeal. She leans back in the circle of my arms and stokes the lapels of my suit. She goes up on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear.

"You look so sexy right now. I want to blow you."

I groan, because now all I can think about is her raspberry lips wrapped around my dick. But there's like a hundred-thousand people crowding us. I suppose this is payback for all the times I've triggered a seatbelt alarm.

"How is it the sexiest thing a man can wear is a three-piece suit? I mean, it's basically layers of material, covering every inch of us, and yet the sexiest thing a woman can wear is lingerie, which might as well be no clothes at all. Essentially, if a man want's to look sexy, he gets dressed. If a woman wants to look sexy, she takes clothes off."

"It's not that. It's that a suit gives you nice clean lines. It--" Kenzie buries her face in my chest, or should I say, suit. "Oh, shit." She quakes.

My lips flirt with a grin, because I did that. I made her laugh. But talk about direct missile hit to my ego. There's fucking tears floating her contacts. She pulls away. I tuck her into my side with an arm draped over her shoulder. She's smiling. She looks like a snacc. She doesn't need to strip down to lingerie to make Aphrodite jealous. There're too many dudes in here. They need to know that she's mine. McKenzie dabs her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve.

"Hey," she says and points. "That's Boyd Walker talking to Coach Wilson. Did you know he was here?"

"Boyd Walker? Didn't he retire?"

"He recruits for the Rangers now."

"Huh," I huff, because I'm fucking eloquent, but I'm more interested than my demeanor lets on. Guys are socialized to dampen our emotions--except anger. That bites us in the ass sometimes, especially with women. With women we're not supposed to express any emotions at all--except to one special woman. When we get that special woman, we've had no practice being vulnerable so we flub it. Then our special woman reinforces our desire to keep to ourselves.

The whole thing is a recipe for disaster. What if she's done something you're struggling to forgive? What do you do? Bottle it up until you break? What if she's like the most attractive thing you've ever seen? You're taken. She's taken. You don't want to take it anywhere. Not being able to express how you feel still eats you alive. Heaven forbid you have to be around her every day, like at work. It's why men are fucking afraid of women. Fortunately, McKenzie doesn't seem to notice my false lack of interest.

"Eric said Islanders and the Devils might be here as well."

"Who's Eric?"

She tilts her head up at me. There's a two stone boulder in my gut. I have a feeling I should know who Eric is. I have a feeling McKenzie thinks I should know who Eric is.

"My boss. The team analyst. You know, your team analyst."

Yeah, she's right. I should get to know the rest of my team. Not only is my girlfriend one of them, whoever spotted Kilgore's handicap just might've won us the game. That should be acknowledged. I'm about to ask her if she knows who it was when I spot someone I do know.

"Is that Lyle Clacher?" Clacher was not a big name but he played several seasons for Seattle making him a Northwest hero.

Kenzie goes up on her toes. "Where?" I point.

"Oh," she says, "you mean the guy talking to Eric." I'm not going to be able to live that down. I don't think I'm going to be getting any tonight. Not that I was going to get any tonight. There are not a lot of women on the team so McKenzie is bunking in a room with the team doctor. There's no sneaking me in, or her out. Her little stunt over Thanksgiving had been a close call. After she'd fallen asleep, I'd gotten her back into her room less than ten minutes before Dad's alarm had gone off. Not that I wouldn't risk it again, because that story? It hit me right in the feels. I'm beyond honored that Kenzie trusted me.

That dude, Eric, I suppose, points towards us. McKenzie has gone back down on the heels of her Converse. She's taller than many women, but not tall enough. There're a lot of people in here. I doubt she sees.

"Your boss is talking about you," I tease.

She rolls her eyes. "He is not. Clacher's on staff with the Islanders. They're talking about you."

"How do you know all this shit, Kenzie?"

She rolls her eyes so hard it's a miracle that her contacts don't get stuck behind her eyeballs. "It's part of the game, Col. I can't get on the ice, so I have to play behind the scenes. You skate against D-men, wingers, and centers. You shoot on the goalie. I play against coaches, strategists and analysts. These types are my opponents."

Huh. I knew stuff went on behind the scenes. I guess I never appreciated how much.

Mom

McKenzie

The crowd thins. Collin has his arm around me. I like that. We're, okay, I'm still babbling about strategies, statistics and team dynamics. I'm not sure when I first notice but I slowly become conscious of the fact that Collin is being watched.

She's older. Late forties. Early fifties. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. It's a light brown, filbert color. It's almost the same shade as Collin's, perhaps a shadow darker. It's probably dyed. She's old enough, there should be gray.

One of the team chaperons calls to us. Collin shifts his hand to the small of my back and guides me towards the exit. I can walk myself but his direction lets me keep my gaze on the woman. Besides, I can't deny that I like Col's hands on me. Collin's not paying the woman any mind but I'd swear I've seen her before. I know it.

I have this memory. A flashback. She's younger. I'm smaller. I'm looking up at her. Collin's with me. I'm taller than he is. That hasn't been true since we were six. She's angry. We'd done something naughty. I don't remember what. The woman moves towards us. We're almost at the door.

"Collin?" she calls. "Collin Kimball?"

Collin stops. I can feel, more than see, his confusion. I step into him and tuck myself under his arm.

"Hi, Launna."

Her gaze flicks to me and then back at her son. It leaps back. I see the moment recognition floods Launna's brain.

"McKenzie, I see you're still with my son."

I am. Unlike her. His mother.

"How do you know Kenz--who are y--Mom?" Collin's tone starts wary, ends shocked. I loop an arm around his waist and pull into him as tight as I can.

"You're so big, Collin. So grown up. Handsome." There's hesitant pride in Launna's voice. I bristle. She contributed genetics. She might've been there in his earliest years, not knocking how hard that is, but I've been with him more years. Salene had more to do with making him the man he is today than she did. Launna's lips wobble in an insecure smile. "It's good to see you, Collin."

I don't think Collin feels the same way. I don't think he knows what to feel. There's a lot going on in his body. He's twitching. He's flexing. His pulse is pounding. His heart pumps so loud I can hear it even though my ear is tucked under his jaw.

What do you say to the woman who left the boy you are crazy about? What do you say to the woman that destroyed your man's trust in your gender? What do you say to the mother that changed her mind?

I don't know.

***

COLLIN

Kenzie's clinging to me like I might faint. She might be right. I don't even remember what my mom looks like. Dad didn't keep pictures. Not where I could see. But her hair, it's the same color as mine. The curve of her jaw--her's is more delicate, but I've seen it, in my mirror. I can't process that Launna is here. Does she live here? In Boston? How did she end up at my game?

"Mom, what are you doing here?" I'm having a lot of trouble processing. I've had thousands--millions--of questions over the years. None of them come to mind.

Mom's hands move. It's like she wants to reach for me. She didn't hold onto me before--when she left. Razorblade pain lacerates me. It's like someone is doing open heart surgery without putting me under. I want to rear back, but McKenzie tightens her grip on me. She's my shield. She's protecting me. She's protecting my heart.

Launna's hands fall back to her sides. "I teach at BU," she says of Boston University. Her gaze drifts towards the tunnel. The flow has slackened, but fans are still spilling from the stands. "Hockey is big back here. The games, they're something to do."

Something to do? Like on a date? I don't see a date. Maybe she's bored? Lonely?

The rest of what she said registers. I don't remember Mom being a teacher, let alone a professor, but my memories are vague and poorly formed. Glitter. Heels. Dresses. Going hungry because she'd somehow spent our food money? That's a question because I didn't understand back then that Mom often spent more than Dad made. Endless gifts--for her. Always for her. Gifts Dad couldn't afford. I don't know what she looked like but I still know she was pretty. But aren't all moms pretty when you are six? Mom ripped Dad's heart out when she ran off with a wealthier man.

"How have you been?"

I try to speak. I have to clear my throat. Still, nothing emerges.

"He's good. His dad is too. Thanks for asking." Kenzie's tone is business-like. She drags on my hip, angling me towards the door. "We have to go, Col. Coach is waiting on us."

He is. He's standing by the door of the bus. There's a scowl on his face. He's tapping his foot.

There's a million things I want to say to my mom. They range from, "I love you" to "I hate you." They all feel true. They all feel wrong. No matter what I say, I'll not be happy with it later. So I don't say anything. I let McKenzie lead me out the door.

"Wait." There's a distressed crescendo in my mother's tone. She thrusts a card at me. "My number. In case... you ever want to talk."

I almost don't recognize my voice. It's deep. Growly. "Can Dad call you?" I'm not the only person she left.

She closes her eyes. Weariness etches lines in her face. She looks old. Older than Dad. I know she's younger. "Yes." The word comes out on a tired sigh. "Stephen can call, if he wants. If he needs to..." Another weary breath. "... yell at me."

"Okay." Again my voice is growly. I tuck the card in the breast pocket of my coat. Kenzie leads me away. When we reach the bus, I can't help it. I look back. Launna is gone--like she's always been.

Finals

Collin

Average. Mean. Population density. Standard deviation. All these fucking equations floating around in my head.

I punch another formula into the calculator Kenzie made me buy. It spits out a number. I write it down. Fuck, I hope it is correct. I've got a solid B-plus in Statistics. I don't need to ace the final test, but, God, I want to. I know McKenzie claims that I didn't really need help, I just needed the correct calculator, but that's not true. She's worked so hard to help me. "We" spent hours studying for this test. In truth, I studied and she monitored my studies. I want to ace this, not for me, for her. I want to show McKenzie what she's done for me--that because of her, I'm better.

I finish the last problem. I glance at the clock. I have three minutes before pencils down. I return to a problem that I wasn't feeling. I race through the calculations one last time. I flubbed twenty-one-choose-four. I correct it. I'm writing down the answer as Professor Sylvia Frye brings our test--and class--to an end.

I'm not sorry I won't be seeing the Evil Mastermind anymore. I am sorry I've lost this excuse to spend time with McKenzie. Even when life had been run-around-like-a-headless-chicken busy, we had class and studies to bring us together. We'll see each other at practice, but it's not the same. I'm on the ice. She's with... her portion of the team. A part of the team I'm appreciating more and more.

A blast of winter air scours our flesh as we leave the lecture hall. The main doors are sucked closed giving us respite until the next gaggle of students exit the building. I slip on my coat as the girls bundle up. Ash and Kenzie have poofy jackets, knit gloves and scarves. Ash tugs on a lavender pom-pom beanie while Kenzie draws a faux-fur lined hood over her head. They look like they're ready to brave the Arctic Circle. It's cold outside, but not that cold. It might be as low as ten when one considers the wind-chill. But maybe that's frostbite cold for them. Kenzie and I showered together last night after some of the best sex of my life. McKenzie commandeered control of the water temperature. I received clear insight into what a lobster in a cookpot feels like. When I woke up this morning, I was surprised I still had skin.

Salt crunches under our feet as we descend the stairs, exiting the building. Despite five layers of clothing, McKenzie shivers. I put my arm around her shoulder and tuck her close. Ashley glances at us. I think she's envious. I hope it's of the shared warmth, and not the cuddle, because while Ash and I are cool, she's not getting a cuddle. Not from me. Never again.

"That was my last final." Kenzie's tone is happy. Mist puffs up from her bite-me lips. It's not my last final. I have one more. "How did you do?"

"Good," I say. I don't know if I aced it. I don't know if I did Kenzie proud. I do know I passed.

"We should celebrate. Go to the Sin Bin. You too Ash." She turns her gaze back on me. Kenzie's wearing her glasses, not her contacts. I can see the mischief in her jade eyes. "You should bring your roommates." She might as well have said Roman. We both know that Ashley and Ro are pining. We both know that neither one of them will make the first move. They need a push.

"I don't know." Ashley is looking at her feet. She's twisting her hands. "Maybe I should pack to go home." Tomorrow is the start of Winter Break. It's also the longest stretch in our season with no games. We don't even have practice until a couple of days after Christmas. "My cousin is picking me up pretty early. We're shopping in Sisters. I don't want to be hung-over or anything."

"We'll cut you off at one drink."

Ashley cuts an alarmed glance at me. "I--you don't need to do that."

"My girl wants to party. She wants to bring her wingwoman. You're coming."

"To quote my neighbor's four year old daughter, 'you're not the boss of me.'"

"You owe me, Ash." I'm poking fun, but when Ashley slides a guilty glance at the woman under my arm, I feel like shit. Kenzie and I are back together. We're closer than before. I hadn't meant to guilt Ash.

Her shoulders sag. "What time?"

"You don't have to," McKenzie and I say together. My voice is rough, gravelly. I feel like I'm speaking through cement mixer slurry.

Ashley blows out a breath that leaves her momentarily shrouded in mist. "You both know I'm going. I was just in denial." She's speaking to her feet.

"I didn't mean to... guilt you," I say.

A crooked smile flirts with her lips. She side-eyes me. "No worries. I was a bitch. You get one free pass. You just used it."

She had been a bitch back in high school. Her or McKenzie. Ash's demands wounded me. I made the wrong decision. She's not the only reason, but she's one of the reasons, I don't trust women. Like that's fair. People don't need to be female to be assholes--I'm proof. I force myself to be reasonable. She's older. She's not the same person today.

"That's fair." It is. The past is the past. It should stay there.

"Where do you want to meet?" I ask Kenzie. "Your place? My place? I'll get one of the guys to drive."

"We'll need a DD. I'm going to invite Sophie."

"Maybe we should Uber. You remember Luce's car. And Ro's. Owen's isn't any roomier."

"Too bad we don't have the Pathfinder," McKenzie says. I still haven't replaced my car. "I could sit in your lap."

"That'll gain us one seat." I shoot a smirk at Ashley. "Maybe Ash could sit on Roman. That's get us a little more roo--"

"I'm not sitting on that asshole's lap!"

The conversation has carried us all the way to the girl's sorority. Kenzie goes up on her toes and gives me a quick kiss. Her lips are warm, soft. I want to prolong the contact. She sinks back on her heels before I can press for more. "We're assuming everyone is going. Call me after your exam. We'll work it out then."

The Sin Bin

McKenzie

Tonight's the night. I squirm in my seat. I want Collin bareback. That means my butt. I'm really full right now. I have a plug in my tail hole. I smell like a coconut. It's not my shampoo. It's my backdoor lube. I should be more than ready when the real fun begins. I'll have to go easy on the food and the drinks, because that'll ruin everything.

"Move over," Roman growls. He plops six beers in front of me. Hands grab and none are left. From behind my glasses, I quirk a brow at Ro, because, where am I supposed to go? When Col comes back with the mojitos us girls ordered, I'll sit on him. O'Brey and Sophie's roommate, Tracy, have joined us. I flagged over Rachit when I saw him. Add Sophie, Owen, Luce, Ash and me, and the booth is about as packed as it's going to get--like my butt. There's more room by Ashley anyhow. I point.

"I know Ash scares you, but you're a big boy. Grow a pair."

Ashley puts her face in her hands. Despite Def Leppard on the jukebox, I catch her laughter.

"Fuck, O'Brey, this save." Rachit has game stream pulled up on his phone. I'm pretty sure they are talking about last Saturday's game. O'Brey made a stick save in the final seconds that prevented Florida from tying the game up. It was incredible. Our defense had folded. He'd been pounded. He'd been out of position. No one thought he could make the save. It was on home ice so Red Wolf fans were well represented. Excitement, joy, relief, a deafening roar of approval had crashed over the whole stadium. There'd been this bite in my bladder. I'd almost peed myself.

"Do we have to talk hockey?" Tracey asks. I take it she doesn't like the greatest sport ever. I mean, what's not to like? Ripped men? Speed? Aggression? Sticks? More sexual references than baseball?

"Yes," seven voices answer. I slide from my seat to let Collin in because one of those voices belonged to him. I wiggle into his lap. There's not a lot of room between "my seat" and the bottom of the table. I take a sip of my mojito and thank my man with a kiss.

"What's this?" Collin says in a low, quiet voice. He's holding his beer in one hand but the other is low, low on my hip. The way my plug is pushing into me I'm guessing the exposed end is grinding on his thigh.

I move my lips to his ear. "I'm getting ready for later. I want you bareback." I hope he connects the dots. We probably should've talked earlier. I don't want a repeat of Thanksgiving. The swelling of a certain appendage beneath my bottom tells me I don't have much to worry about. "You know what that means, right?"

"I've got you, Kenzie. Whatever you want."

Oh. My fingers flutter on my collar bone. I like those words.

"Hey, this is a public space." Roman makes a wide circular wax-off motion over the table. "What are you two asshat lovebirds talking about?"

"About how I'm getting some tonight and you're not," Collin says. Collin told me that Roman hasn't hooked up for the past two months. My dress fitting was about two months ago.

Roman's shoulders thump back against the backrest of our horseshoe booth. "Fuck you." He has taken the space beside Ashley. She's smashed so tight between him and Lucas that her shoulders are wedged up to her ears.

"Move over asshole." Ash shoves at Roman but she has no leverage. He's a lot bigger than she is, and more musclely. He doesn't budge. Her brows lower.

There's a bang. The table rattles. The ice in my mojito jumps. Roman flies out of his seat.

"What the fuck! Something bit me!" Roman's rubbing the inside of his arm. Ashley has her face covered. Her shoulders are shaking. Roman grabs her and rips her out of the booth. "Get out, before it bites you too!" We're all staring at him like he's lost his mind, because he has.

"Guys?" he says, looking between us. "Something bit me. Big. Not a bug. Like a rodent. A rat." He's casually holding Ashley. She doesn't let go of him even after she gets her feet under her. Her chest swells and I think she huffed him.

No, I know she huffed him.

Ro's expression is priceless. Ashley needs to see it. I wish I had my camera ready.

"Did you just... smell me?"

Ashley's cheeks turn the color of a Red Delicious apple. She fights her way out of his arms. "No. Why would I do that, asshat?"

"I don't know I just... you... I thought..."

"I need a drink." She speaks to us at the table. "Tequila shots?" Ash doesn't wait for an answer. She goes to order the drinks and throws the first one back before she's even left the bar. Roman's gaze is glued to her the whole time. She returns with a tray of nine shots. I refuse, because one shot leads to a second which leads to a third and I don't want to get sloshed. I plan to have fun tonight. Not ralph. I don't even want to be tipsy.

"You should slow down, princess."

"Did you just princess me?" Ash says poking Roman in the chest.

"If the shoe fits."

"Fuck you." She pounds the tequila I didn't drink. She's not going to be happy tomorrow morning.

Roman grabs her arm and drags her towards the bar.

"Hey, stop. Let go. Where are you taking me?"

"To get you some water," Roman growls. "And you are going to drink it until your eyeballs fucking float"

"Oh. Okay," Ashley breathes as Roman drags her out of the range of my hearing.

Sophie snickers. "Girl, how long has that been going on?"

"Since the moment they met." I savor a sip of my mojito because it's going to be the only one.

"I need to hang with you more. Watching that is better than any reality show."

"I'll second that," Lucas says. He flutters his lashes like the total dork he is. "You can hang with us any time you want."

Hoo boy. While I take another sip of my mojito, Collin fishes his phone out of his pocket. He tilts it towards me.

"Hey, I wanted to get your thoughts on this app." I don't recognize it. He pushes a button and his phone dings.

I jolt. I try to come off his lap. The table's in the way. It's the butt plug. It's got to be. I've never reacted like that to a single ding. A server comes by with the appetizers we ordered. Stuffed mushrooms and wings. The Sin Bin makes these awesome stuffed mushrooms that's almost like a mini-pizza.

"Not feeling it? How about this one?"

It's the crinkly cellophane sound from @EmzyStreams. I clench so hard my legs try to cross. Again, the table is in the way. "Col" I whine into his ear.

"No?" He reaches past me to spear a mushroom with a toothpick. He pushes a button. Shattering glass.

I slick my thong. My butt tries to cut the plug in half. I'm shaking. I grab Collin's shirt and bury my face in his chest. I'm on the edge. I'm about to come.

"What's so funny?" O'Brey asks.

He thinks I'm laughing? Oh shit. Now I am laughing. I don't know if that's better or worse because I'm convulsing and I can't come down.

Collin slides his phone across the table. I gape at him, because, really? O'Brey picks it up.

"Mike and Joelle. Fuck, those two are funny." He slides Col's phone back and sure enough, the screen is tuned to a Mike and Joelle feed.

"Who're Mike and Joelle?" Tracey asks.

"A married couple. Comedians. All she does is laugh. He tells the most messed up stories. It's hilarious," O'Brey says.

I quaff the remainder of my mojito, willing my body back into control. I slide off Collin's lap, take his hand, capture his gaze and imitate Lucas's fluttering eyelashes. "Dance with me," I plead in a faked falsetto.

Col sighs like I'm some kind of burden. "Fuck, sure, why not?" His tone says he's playing, but even if he weren't, I'm not, because I'm going to make this worth his while. I know how to dance. I'm going to rub myself all over him. There's not going to be a straight dude in this pub who's not jealous.

We work our way over to the small space that's reserved for the rare live band. Most of the time it serves as an impromptu dance floor. There's a few couples there already so we carve out a space right as Bea Miller's S. L. U. T.--Sweet Little Unbreakable Thing--comes over the stereo system. I laugh, turn to my date, raise my hands in the air and undulate. He joins me with these silly man moves that make me smile. I move closer and grind on him.

His hands, my plug, his muscle game, and my grinding make life interesting. By the time Collin's had enough of vertical sex--he lasted longer than I expected--I'm hot, eager, drippy, and ready to go. I loop my arms around him, melt into his chest, prop my chin on his collarbone and channel my Luce once again and fluttering my lashes up at him. "Show me your room?"

Col spins me away. Grabs my upper arm and says, "Right this way, princess."

My cheeks stretch. Yup, I might be smiling.

Nice Butt

McKenzie

I trip on the staircase. I'm not watching where I'm going. I'm too busy making out with Collin. He catches me and eases me one step closer to his room.

He breaks our kiss--I don't know how, because I was, like, glued to his mouth--and kisses his way down the arc of my throat. He's got his fist in my hair and he bends me this way and that. He's totally dominating me. He's got full access. I love it. If he fucked me the right way right now, if he tried to put a baby in me, as much as that scares me, I'd still let him. I don't think I could resist.

We stagger another few steps up the stairwell. We're getting closer to his room, but my legs aren't working the way they should. Collin palms my butt to support me but uses his fingers to tease my crease through my jeans. The dew point in my panties climbs to one-hundred-and-ten percent. I could probably irrigate the Oregon Badlands right now.

Collin falls down at the top of the stairs. I fall on top of him. I start a zipper-on-fly grind. Immediately.

"Fuck, Kenzie, you're so hot."

I don't think he meant it the way his words strike me, but tell me about it. I feel flushed. And sparkly. And there's these little fizzy Pop-Rocks going off all over my skin. I lean over him. My hair makes a curtain blocking out the entire world except Collin's beautiful face. I bring our lips together. I'm still grinding.

Collin tastes of that Deschutes Brewery stout he likes, the basil stuffed mushrooms we'd had with our drinks and fiery cinnamon. He'd grabbed a cinnamon toothpick as we headed out of the bar to our Uber. The others hadn't come home with us. I'm glad. I'm not planning on being quiet.

When our tongues touch, it feels good. Too good. The plug is pressuring my A-spot from the back side. My grinding is pressuring my clit. I hum into Col's mouth. Bliss washes through me. My body quakes like I've grabbed a live wire. My belly hollows. My core contracts. My love tunnel cinches down on nothing. I hiccup squeak. My butt tries to bite my plug in half. And I--

And I--

And I--

Oh God. I lose my mind.

And my dignity. Wet heat blasts from me. I squirted. My pants are a mess. I sink down on Collin and make like a washed-up jellyfish. Limp. Boneless. Melty. Slimy.

"So good," I mumble into the crook of his neck. I want to be disappointed. I wanted to save my orgasm for later, when he was in me. But I'm feeling so boneless. So melty. So good. There's not been a vibrator designed by womankind that could wind me up again. Not right now. Not before I get some sleep. I don't have high hopes that Col will be able to do any better.

"So good," he agrees. He pets me from my crown to the small of my back. It feels good.

"It was?" I'm wet down there. And cooling. In a few minutes I'm going to feel ew gross. I can still feel the ridge pressuring the fly of his pants. He did not come.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Kenzie, and watching you is like..." I lift my head to look at him. Collin seems to struggle to find words. His spicy rum eyes go soft. "... nothing else, anywhere, ever."

Oh. Wow. I like that. But...

"But you didn't come." I nibble my lip.

"Does that make you feel insecure?"

A little. "Guys always come."

"Not true. But I don't think you have to worry. You're going to rest a beat and then you are going to tell me how we do this thing in your backdoor. I've never done that before, so you are going to tell me the rules and what you like. Then I'm going to get you off again."

That's sweet. Nothing is going to happen, but he's welcome to try as soon as I stop feeling like I'm made out of Jell-O.

Collin rolls me to my seat in his lap, loops an arm under my knees and climbs to his feet. He bridal-carries me into his room--without knocking my head on the door--and lies me on his bed. He climbs over me, kisses me and then gently, item by item, removes my clothing.

He slides my glasses off last. The room goes a little blurry. I can see what I need to see, though--him.

"God, Kenzie." He's propped up on a hand and an elbow above me. Col leans in for another heart stopping kiss. "Who made you so perfect?" He starts to strip. I want to help but I'm still feeling like Jell-O-girl. I'm happy to watch. And listen. And smell. And melt. When he's naked he lies down beside me and pulls me onto his chest. The warmth radiating off of him beats any dryer warmed blanket. His fir, cedar and man-musk scent is delicious. So delicious. Better than chocolate.

He takes his fingers, pushes them into the soft flesh behind my shoulder and slowly works them down, not quite kneading my flesh until he meets the plug in my rump. He taps it, centering my focus there. He starts over. His fingers trace each knob of my spine, from the base of my skull to the top of my tail. He taps my plug, drawing more of my focus. He does it again, this time starting at my other shoulder. He does it over and over. I'm warm and fuzzy and with each tap, my focus narrows. A need grows within me.

"Tell me Kenzie, how is this supposed to work?"

"I--" I don't want to talk. I'm too relaxed. That's how it's supposed to work. I force myself. "Front to back is okay but not back to front. Not without a lot of soap and hot water."

"What if I want to use my tongue?"

"Mouthwash is an acceptable soap alternative."

"Got it. Once we're in the backyard, we stay there."

With regret, I peal one of my shoulders off of Collin, twist and point in the approximate direction of his desk behind me. "I left lube--coconut oil--over there before we went to the Sin Bin."

"You mean the container that says, 'Butt Only?'"

I'd used a permanent marker on the lid because I didn't want anybody thinking it was for cooking. I'm careful with it. It's probably not contaminated. Why chance it?

"Yeah. Use lots of it. On my tail. In my tail. On anything that goes in my tail. To be safe, it does not go up front."

"Got it, grease the backdoor. Nothing else."

I snort. He does more of that massage tap thing and my thoughts unravel, stitch back together and unravel again.

"Anything else?"

I'm so relaxed. Thinking is hard. Speaking is harder. "Go slow. Stop if I say, 'stop.' Speed up when we're both ready. Have fun."

"Play nice. Come in your ass. Got it."

Heat kisses my cheeks. My teeth pinch my lip. I nod. "Mm hmm." He traces my hip bone with his fingers and taps my toy again. I hitch a knee over his thigh and rock--just a little. There's a pleasant ache, and not just in my tail. I feel like there's this spring in my clit. It's slowly twisting tighter.

Col moves out from under me and settles me on my belly. The bed moves and I instantly regret the loss of him. I feel the bed dip again and he places my don't-cook-with-this oil on the nightstand within easy reach. His warmth blankets the left side of me and I revel in his presence once more. His fingers work from shoulder to ass--and tap. He kneads my butt. My thighs. I open a little when he nudges me. His hand comes back to my neck and he massages me.

I moan into my pillow. Col's hands feel so good. Once again, he traces a trail around every knob of my spine on his way to my tail. When he arrives, he does not tap, he tugs. Not hard. The dilator plug is big--huge. An inch wide at the base. The flair inside is wider. Collin is not a small man. The plug is six long. I wanted to be ready. My hips rise up off the bed following the pressure. He releases it. I sink back to the bed. I'm so full. The almost relief is overwhelming. I sigh so heavily it feels like I exhaled my soul. He massages my thighs. And my calves. And my feet. He works his way back up. He pulls. And oh, God, Collin. I feel good.

Again I ease to the bed. He doesn't release. The moment I sink into the mattress, he pulls again. I rise and my legs quiver. The pressure increases. My eyes are trying to roll into the back of my head. I'm glad I wore my glasses, not my contacts. My fingers crawl over the bed. I need grounding. Badly.

"Oh Goddess. Fuck. Col."

The plug eases out and the relief is so intense that I release a deep, guttural groan. The bed dips. Collin's heat shifts. He leans across me. I hear the lid of my lube come off. The hint of coconut already on the air thickens. Little sparks tickle my hole, my tailbone and crack as his finger takes a turn around me--greasing me. I exhale and melt as he pushes oil into my hole. I probably don't need it, I prepped thoroughly, but I'm pleased. It's kind of hot when a man listens to you. He rubs me inside. Rainbow sparkles billow and it's like every muscle loses cohesion, every bone disconnects, my brain disconnects. I'm Jell-O-girl again. Except I'm Jell-O-girl with a sparkly building need. He works a second finger into me which stretches me a little, because his hands are fricking huge. The hockey-man-busted-knuckles strike sparks as they push through my sphincter. And I--

And I--oh, God.

I fight it. I don't come. It was a close call.

"How do you want me?" He withdraws his fingers. A fleshquake shudders through me.

"Inside?" My brain is one millivolt from overload. I don't really know what I'm saying. From the motion in the bed I think he's jacking himself. Lubing up. I don't dare look. That's all it will take for my part in this to be over.

Collin manhandles my hips. I struggle to prop myself on my knees. Jell-O girls don't have bones. He gets me where he wants me. I'm face down, ass up. He nudges me a little wider. I feel him. Pixies sprinkle dust as they dance on my skin. I grab my ass cheeks. He lines up. It's my last first time. But it's going to be a good one. The best one.

I inhale. I feel pressure. I exhale. He slides in.

I'm stretched. I'm full. I'm getting fuller.

"Fuck. McKenzie. How does this feel so good?" There's more of him. He's going slow. Creeping. We're talking millimeters, but holy, fucking, God, I thought I was used to this. I know exactly what he means.

After the most agonizing, blissful eternity in my entire existence, his base is kissing my sphincter. I'm full. I'm empty. My love tunnel is weeping because she feels left out. Everything, front and back, is fluttering and clenching. And I don't know how to describe it. I feel--I feel... pinioned. In a good way.

He starts to withdraw and, ohmigod, the relief. The feeling just kind of balloons in like a sparkly cloud around where he invades me. It feels good. Way good. It doesn't threaten to push me over. But it doesn't stop. He's almost out. The piston changes direction. I'm filling. Then relief. The cloud billows more.

"Faster?" It's definitely a question. I've never done this before. Not even with a dildo. This full stroke in and out is new.

Collin picks up the pace. The sparkly, rainbow-y, cloudy sensation fills me from toes to nose, fingers to nips. Only once I'm full to the brim, does it begin to pressure up.

I bring my fingers to my launch button. I jill. Just a little. I don't want to detonate. Not yet. But I need to be touched.

Collin leans over me. I sink towards the bed. His fist tangles in my hair. He turns my head. His breath is right in my ear.

"May I touch you? Your tits? With the hand that's been inside you?"

It's not like he's putting something in me. His fingers are probably just greasy. I try to nod, but he's got my hair. "Yes," I choke out.

He palms my right boob. His heat seeps into me. He kneads. Pinches. Tugs. Releases.

My toes curl. My fingers lock up. A hiccup squeak escapes me. Four more chase it. My core, my love tunnel, my butt cinch down.

"Fuck. Kenzie!"

Yes. Fuck. Frigging a! Fuck! "I'm coming!" It's the second time I've announced myself with Collin. I don't normally do that, but, ohmigod, I'm coming. Every nerve. Every single last one of them. They're all sparking. They're all coming. "Collin!"

I can't hold myself up. My hips slip towards the bed. Collin follows me. I ripple around him. He pinions me and holds still. I can feel him swell.

"Kenzie! God. Fuck." He pulses. Heat blossoms. Collin unloads in my butt.

Collin falls over me. He's heavy. Warm. He's crushing me. It feels good. I try not to push him out. I like him there.

"So good, Kenzie," he says in my ear. I can hear his awe.

I agree. It felt good to take him that way. Bare. It felt great to give him my last first. My heart pumps up like a balloon. I love him.

He slips from me. He cleans me. He washes. He puts me to bed. We cuddle. I have no thoughts for the morrow. I love him. I never stopped.

I love Collin.

Christmas

McKenzie

I Lift to Sisters. I bus to Salem. I doze on a bench. I bus to Florence. It takes me a fricking day and a half of my winter break to get home.

Dad couldn't pick me up because he's a manager at Driftwood Shores and even on a cold beach in Oregon, hostelry hops over winter break. Andre has his new baby and baby momma in Seattle to worry about. Salene lives with her hubby in Charleston, South Carolina now. Kev has a job in Northern California and couldn't pick me up until Christmas Eve. Mark is on a commercial fishing boat out of Astoria. Who knows when they'll make landfall? Heather's working, so it was Christmas Eve for her too. Toney couldn't borrow the car, because Mother's a witch. Ditto for April.

There's no place like home for Christmas, which is good, because my home fricking sucks. I never want to find another place like it. I wouldn't wish it on an arachnid. The only thing I'm looking forward to over break is my wetsuit and surfboard. I can stay in the ocean until I turn blue, assuming Mother hasn't thrown my good stuff out. I wish I could've stayed with Collin and his dad. At least then I'd have enjoyed being fucked over. Dad did promise to drive me back to Pining after Christmas--thank God.

So, yeah, I don't exactly have any Christmas cheer when I drag my wheelie travel case up to the door. Like every house on the street, the crab grass yard is fenced with salt cured driftwood hung with ratty fish net, washed up floats and sea shells abandoned by their original owners. It's gray and drizzling. There's a not quite kosher saltwater and shellfish smell hanging in the air. My hair is limp and my skin feels yucky-grimy. I want a hot shower and a change of clothes. I let myself into the paint peeling, salt faded 1970's ranch style house that has a floor plan identical to every other 1970's ranch in existence.

"I'm home," I say loud enough I can claim I announced myself but I don't really holler. Every minute that passes without my Mother's vitriol is a blessing. Of course, I'm home, I can't be that lucky. Mother pops her head out of the laundry cabinet beyond the kitchen as I try to sneak down the hall towards the room I shared with my sisters.

Her face falls. She's never been great to any of us kids but my presence must be some special circle in hell for her. "Oh, it's you." She turns her back on me. "I'm doing laundry. Do you need your g-strings washed? Baby dolls? Micro-scrunchies?"

What the fuck? The bitch! I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't think that way about my mother. I shouldn't think that way about any woman, but I'm so tired of the witch. I'll last longer with passive aggressive, poke-me-where-it-hurts Mom than bitch-rage Mom but it's almost worse. I'll be under pressure longer and I'll feel just as shitty when I break. She wants to make a dig at my slut ways? I'm done editing my thoughts for her. I don't know why she hates me.

April is a different story. The moment I peek into our--her--room she hops off the built in window seat, bounces over and hugs me. I cling because I need her love.

"You're home!"

The room hasn't changed. There are less than two paces between the bunk beds on the right and the bunk beds on the left. There's girly crap piled everywhere because A, we are girls and B, there's zero room. When I was in high school the closet couldn't contain a tenth of my wardrobe and there were four of us. We had to use a corner of the garage as a makeshift closet. Fortunately, Salene only lived here for one summer and Heather moved out before the start of my junior year in high school.

"There's going to be a bonfire out at South Jetty tonight. You want to go?" April leans into my ear. "There'll be booze." She says it like it's a secret. I suppose it is. April's seventeen. "Ricky says he's got weed."

I don't know a Ricky. High school pot-head probably. I don't do the stuff. I've got other vices. Surfboards. Snowboards. Dune buggies. Dance. Hockey. Butt plugs. Collin. I let a smile stretch my lips.

"I'm in."

"Cool. I knew you were. I've already put your board in the truck. I've been using your wetsuit, mine is too small." She makes a vague motion at her chest. She's had her suit since she was, like, twelve. It's not her chest that's too big, it's that the suit can't possibly fit crotch to shoulders. Rivers girls are... tall-ish. "But we can steal Heather's. Even if we don't dip our toes tonight, promise me we'll catch some waves."

My smile grows wider. I love my sister. I love the way she thinks. "We'll catch waves."

April bounces back over to her seat. That window was my favorite place in the house when I was in high school. It makes sense that it's April's now. She picks up the romance she was reading when I walked in. The cover art makes me think it's probably not rated teen.

I shift a pile of clothes off of my old bunk. I throw my suitcase on it, lie down and kick my feet up against the boards above me.

"Do you..." Pink creeps up April's neck.

"Do I what?"

"Never mind."

"April."

"I'm not Mom. I don't want to be mean."

"You could never be Mother, April. What is it?"

"It's embarrassing."

"All the good stuff is. Ask."

"Do you really put dildos in your butt?"

Well, I hadn't expected that. I guess it makes sense. When it comes to sexperience, Mother is a no go. Dad is... well, it's just uncomfortable. I went to Heather for my sex education. It makes sense April would come to me. Besides, who better? I'm the clan slut.

God, I'm down on myself. It must be the house--or the witch that lives here.

"Yes."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"I don't just shove stuff up there. I use lube. Lots of it. I take my time. I don't do it when I've eaten too much, or too little, because, blerg."

A giggle slips out of April. She fidgets. Her eyes are wide. She's hanging on my every word.

"I practiced with small things. Safe things. Things specifically designed to go in a butt. You do not want to find yourself in the ER because your little hole sucked up something not meant to be there. All safe things have some sort of stop that will prevent full entry. Once it's been in your butt, it doesn't go anywhere else. Don't cross contaminate."

"Do you like it?"

I bite my lip. I'm a little bit mortified. Okay, a lot bit. I nod.

"What's it feel like?"

Like a really big shit. Except, when your man is pistoning. The full, relief, full, relief, full, relief cycle on infinite loop becomes orgasmic. Sorta. It's a different kind of orgasm. Full body. It also makes anything in my love tunnel feel bigger--so bonus--all around. I tell her.

"Ew"

Yeah, ew. There's no good way to describe that. "Is someone wanting to put his joystick in your tail hole?"

"No. Not really." April shrugs and I can't quite get a read on her. I don't think she's lying but I can't be sure. "Mother was making such a big deal out of you doing it. I was curious."

"It's not for everyone."

"Have you ever had a boy back there?"

I feel heat in my cheeks. She's my sister. She loves me. She's proved that. "Yes. Just once."

"Collin?"

I'm on fire. "Yes."

"I'm so mad at you."

What? "Why?" Where did that come from? April doesn't actually sound mad, but...

"He was always around but you were into him. Then he wasn't around, and you were still into him. Then you weren't into him. Now you're into him again and he's never not been into you."

Not ever? Like never ever?

"So see this?" She points to her tongue. She's sticking it out--like she's four. "That's what you get for giving me hope when there wasn't any."

Oh.

We chat some more. Boys. School. Mother. Dad. They've been fighting. About me. That's new. Dad never fights. He just smiles and shit rolls off him. My job. Hockey. April doesn't write hockey fanfic in her head like I do but she can still talk hockey. We grew up together. I rubbed off. She brings up this boy Chase more than once. I think Chase might be getting lucky someday soon. Her eighteenth birthday is next month. I'm relieved she doesn't seem terribly hurt about me and Col. I don't want to feel bad. Eventually yucky-grimy takes precedence and I go wash up.

Dad is home when I leave the shower. I used all the hot water. Mother can take a picture of my middle finger. She can Snapchat the other one too. I'll show her both. God, I've never been like this but it's like a switch has been flipped.

Dad is happy to see me. Toney and I do that whole my-sibling-is-home awkward hug thing. There's just the five of us so dinner is around the table instead of spilling into the living-room. Mother is the good cook I am not. I force myself to show appreciation. Give love, get love, right? God, I wish it worked like that. Maybe it does. Maybe I'll get karma points or something and someone else will send me the love I'm missing here. Either way, I try, because this house doesn't have enough air for two bitches.

After dinner, I offer to wash dishes, because of that whole not enough air thing. In the living-room Dad puts on a game. I know he'd rather watch football but he puts on hockey for me. We chat about a whole bunch of nothing. He asks about school and Collin and how Thanksgiving was at Stephen's. I gush about my new job when what I really want to know is if he loves me any less after he found out about @EmzyStreams. We've talked every week since the wedding. Neither one of us has broached the topic that's eating me.

Toney drives when we head to the South Jetty. He's our DD tonight. He says he wants to be sober when his sisters piss themselves drunk. That sounds like a great plan. That's not what happens though.

When I see the surf, I want in the water. It's still raining a little anyway. So, get wet in the ocean? Get wet on the beach? It's a no brainer to me, and, apparently, April. Surfing at night has its risks, but we navigate them. When we're both freezing our nips off cold, because this is not California, we head in. April drinks a lemon vodka from the can but I'm just happy to warm myself by the fire. Some dude I've never met hits on me. I tell him this ass is already taken. It has been. I smile remembering it. He's not an asshat and moves on. It's the perfect end to an imperfect day. So, bonus, I'm not hung over when I wake the next morning.

Not so for my little sister. She moans when I roll out of bed. She pulls her quilt over her head. I wander out of our room in an oversized tee and bikini briefs on the hunt for coffee. Mother's in the kitchen.

"Morning," I cavewoman grunt. I can be civil. Coffee's already made. I pour myself two cups.

"Don't be drinking it all. There're other people in this house, McKenzie."

Frigging a. It's too early for this. "April." I hold up the cup I haven't sipped from.

"Did you let her get drunk?"

Let? Sure, I was the older sister this time, but no one had ever worried when I got drunk. Well, except Dad, but he didn't kibosh it. He just asked me to be careful.

"I expect better from you."

You do? Because the last I heard, you were saying I was a whore. Not sure it gets any worse than that. I don't want to know if it does. I don't say that though. I return to my sister's room without saying anything.

"Brought you coffee."

An agonized moan sounds from under April's covers. "God--" A pause. "--kill me now." Another pause. "Please."

"I'll set it on the window seat." We don't have night stands. There's no room. A hand snakes out from under April's comforter and she makes grabby fingers.

"Sit up, you'll spill it."

"Ugh! You're the worst."

"I know. Sit up."

She scooches to a sitting position. I hand her her coffee. I leave to clean up. We have the one bathroom. Dad's already at work but I want to be free and clear before Toney decides he needs to take a thirty minute dump. I trade places with April in the shower when I'm done. She looks healthier when she joins me in the dining room. Mother makes her eggs and bacon. Huh? I got cold cereal and skim milk. Skim milk? Like, come on. It's like water with white food coloring in it.

"What are you doing today?" April asks around a mouthful of bacon that I wish I was eating too. She's squinting like the watery sunlight filtering through the cloud layer hurts her. She obviously doesn't feel good. Still, I can tell, she doesn't want to be left out. We've only seen each other once in the past three months.

"I thought I'd go Christmas shopping." Florence isn't a big town and I don't have a lot of money. None of us do. So Christmas gifts are small. No one expects much, but I'm going to spend all day. Anything for an excuse not to spend time near my mother.

"You can't have the truck. I need it for groceries. Your father took the car to work."

"I can go shopping for you," I offer. Maybe I can earn some please-be-nice-to-me points.

"If I sent you, you'd spend four times as much and get the wrong flour."

Can I not catch a break? I was trying to be nice. She can make a list. I'd stick to it. "I'll Uber," is what I say. I'll use the cash I was saving for Mother's Christmas present. Maybe I can find a lump of coal by the railroad track. If not, a charcoal briquette from the BBQ should say the same thing.

Because I'm not a bitch, I don't end up getting her that. I get her an oven-mitt to replace the one Collin and I ruined when we were eight by thinking we could use it to hold onto a firework for too long. I burnt a hole in it. I was lucky I didn't blow my fingers off. She still uses it. I know this because she curses my name every time she burns herself taking a dish out of the oven.

When we get home, April and I don't ask, we just take the truck. We go to the beach and surf until we're both blue. The next day is Christmas Eve. Mark arrives in the morning. Kevin's a few hours behind him. Heather and Logan come over and the house feels just as full as it did when we were kids--except it's a lot more awkward when your brother takes a piss while you're in the shower. That evening dinner spills into the living-room.

That night all I hear from my mother is:

"McKenzie, set the table."

"McKenzie, the knives go on the other side."

"McKenzie, why didn't you use the good china?"

"McKenzie, you forgot the salt and pepper."

"McKenzie, the glasses have spots on them. You should have washed them."

"McKenzie, do the dishes."

Dad helps me with Mother's last request.

"Why does Mother hate me?" The words cut me as they exit my chest.

For the first time ever, my dad answers. "McKenzie--" I can hear the sorrow. "--it's not you that she hates."

"Are you sure? Because it sure feels like it." My words are bitter. I didn't mean to lash out. My Dad loves me. I think. But @EmzyStreams. I'm feeling insecure. I always feel insecure at home. Insecure is my norm.

Dad doesn't immediately answer and I give up. I just give up. I feel like I'm giving up on everything. There's a cloud of Novocain in my chest. I trudge to the living-room. We're opening gifts tonight. Heather and Logan will be with his parents tomorrow. Besides, mornings in the Rivers' house, with only one bathroom, are chaotic. It's much easier to bring everyone together in the evenings.

I got my brothers and Dad a mountain of salt water taffy. I spent nearly an hour sorting their favorite flavors before I bagged it. I bigtime splurged on April. She has a new wetsuit. It's more joke than gift, but I got Heather driving gloves for the next time she steals Logan's truck. I don't know Logan all that well so he's got a new surf shirt. I didn't think he'd have use for a silk tie--except to bind Heather. I didn't want to go there with Mother in the room.

So far I've received a hot pink Red Wolves hockey jersey. The team name and a generic, unassigned number are bedazzled with sequins. A Red Wolves baseball cap. A new sweater.

I'm reaching for my next gift when Mother says, "What is this?" My eyes snap up. She's using her McKenzie is a cunt voice. "You can't just replace something you ruined, McKenzie. It was my mother's!"

I'm out of my seat. I'm out of the door. I'm three steps past the porch when I fall to my knees and sob. I hear April. I hear Heather. I hear Kevin, Mark and Toney. Nothing registers. They're all yelling. It's Dad that comes and sits beside me in the wet grass of the yard. He puts an arm around me as I rock and shake and weep.

"McKenzie" There is so much sorrow in that one word. In my name.

I fall into Dad, and twist, so I'm half in his lap. "Your mother--" He stops. I feel the surge in his chest when he sighs. His shoulders slump. It's like what he's about to say is too heavy. "When we found out we were having twins, we, your mother and I, we were delighted."

Twins? I'm so in shock my tears stop.

"The pregnancy was hard. Very hard. You and your sister were preemies. Our insurance wasn't great. Your mother fought tooth and nail to save you and your sister. From day one, you were a fighter too. Sahalie was not. When your mother looks at you, it's not you she sees. It's her failure."

"But--" The word flies from me on a sob. I had a twin sister. Named Sahalie. Like the waterfall on the McKenzie River. She died. I might just hurt worse. "--she punishes me. All the time. For my decisions. For things I can't control. That I miscarried. Twins! I needed my mother." My voice falls. I'm almost whispering. "I still need my mother."

There's a wet gasp. It's not Dad. I thought we were alone, but somebody is behind me, maybe on the porch, maybe in the doorway. It sounded like Mother. I shudder at the thought. But that can't be right. She hates me. Mother wouldn't cry for me. I don't want to face her. Not now. Maybe never again.

"Sunshine, you are full and complete by yourself. You always have been. You always will be. Know that sometimes you cannot feel, or perceive, or know the love that is coming your way. That doesn't mean it is not there. Sometimes the love we need is the knowledge that we can let go of the people and things we think we need... and still be whole."

"I don't understand."

"You will. Do you know why I named you after the McKenzie River?"

I have wondered. "No." My voice is so small I almost don't hear myself.

"Because it's my favorite place on Earth. Before you, before your brothers and your sisters came along, all my best memories were there--on the river, beside the river, floating the river, fishing the river. I met your mother on the river. The river is beautiful. The river is strong. Sometimes it's calm. Sometimes it's wild. It's always powerful. The river is vibrant. It's full of life. Like you."

"Do you still think that?" I'm desperate. "Do you think less of me?"

"McKenzie, daughter, love, why would I think less of you?"

"Because I--because of--because I'm a slut. A cam whore." My words are a whisper.

He's holding me, so I feel the rumble in his chest that doesn't quite make it out of his throat. "You're a fighter--not a whore. And who cares? We are eternal beings. This time here is less than a blink. Do you remember everything you did when you were four? When you were ten? When you were eighteen? Last week?" The answer is no but he doesn't give me the chance to say that. "What we take with us is not our memories, but our love."

I cling to my dad. I rub my tears on his shirt. I probably rub my snot on his shirt. I feel like I'm four again. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, McKenzie. I love you too."

The Worst Good News

Collin

Lookity. Lookity. Lookity. Look at them go! Isn't that what they say at a NASCAR race? I think it is. It feels like it should apply here--now.

I slam on the brakes. I touch the boards. I pour on the gas and fly across the ice in the opposite direction. I'm four strides ahead of Silas, our team's next fastest man.

I scream to a stop on the far side of the rink, we're not supposed to crash the boards. I slap the barrier and sprint the other way. Silas is five strides behind me. He's trying to catch me. I can see it in his eyes. We both give it everything we've got--and more. It's our third practice since Christmas. Today is not a day to hold back.

When I next reach the Plexiglas, Coach shouts a time at me. I'm on track to beat the school record, which is already mine. This year's official league stats have not been released, but at this moment, I'm unofficially the fastest man in collegiate hockey. It's not fast enough. I dump all the fuel I have as I sprint for the boards. There's a barf bin in the middle of the ice. I feel as green as Silas looks when Coach calls a stop. We're the only ones without our heads in the bin.

Next come drills. Passing. Shooting. Defense. I shoot five times on O'Brey and score thrice. I do better than everyone but Silas by two shots. I outscore Silas by one shot. I strip the puck six times. I tie with Roman. Our scrimmage is a barn burner. Even the reserves are giving two-hundred-and-ten percent.

Coach whistles. We line up on the blue line. Wilson feeds us a few scraps of praise, spanks a few asses and sends us to the locker.

"Who were those guys?" Levi asks. He's talking about the two strangers who watched our practice from the stands. They'd come into the arena with Coach. We're all trooping down the tunnel.

"Boyd Walker. Lyle Clacher," Silas says.

"Isn't Clacher with Seattle?"

"Not anymore, he retired." That was Owen speaking.

"Scouts," I say. "Walker's with the Rangers. Clacher is with the Islanders."

"No way. How'd you learn that?"

"Kenzie."

"Damn." Roman looks impressed "Is there anything your girl doesn't know?"

"I don't think so," I say and mean it. McKenzie makes a supercomputer look dumb.

I'm about to hit the showers when Coach steps out of his office. ""Kimball! My office when you're dressed."

Roman claps me on the shoulder. "You're getting drafted."

"Can't. Too old."

Roman rolls his eyes. "So they're here to tell you they want you as a free agent. Same diff."

I think so too. Excitement electrifies me. So does anxiety. I don't know how I'm going to tell Kenzie. She had a rough go over Christmas. If I'm being scalped, they might want me to sign now. I'll have to finish my degree somewhere else. I'd do long distance for her, but I don't want to. I want her with me, but that's not fair. So what if I'd make more? That doesn't make my dreams more important.

I shower. I dress. I visit Coach's office.

"Collin, I'd like you to meet Boyd Walker. Boyd's a scout for the Rangers," Wilson booms in his indoor voice. "I'll just step out for a moment."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker. I used to watch you when you were with Boston." I shake his hand. The guy is huge. He might be retired but he must still hit the gym.

"Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Kimball. I've been watching you for a while now. Your skills are impressive."

"Thank you, sir."

"Let me cut to the chase, Collin. The Rangers want you. Are you interested?"

Excitement and panic surge through me in equal measures. I feel like my nervous system has been connected to a dynamo. Electrons charge my joints and it's hard to hold still. "Of course."

"We'll be sending you a contract for next season. I'd advise you to talk to an agent but the moment you do you'll have to drop from the NCAA."

Fuck. I knew that. But fuck.

"Same if you sign. We understand you'll want to wait until after your season is over but know that until you sign, we can change our mind."

"I understand." My voice is so rumbly it's like there is a cement mixer in my chest.

"You'll also have to drop out of school--finish in New York or online."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want this. I want this bad. I'm not ready for it. I do not want to have to choose between my dream and McKenzie. Even if she stays with me, she'll still want to finish school. The timing is horrible. I don't know if I can do this to her. I don't want to do this to her. If I sign now, they could take me to New York immediately.

"You still in?"

How can I possibly decide? My dream? My girl? They're both important. I'd pick my girl now but what if I blame her a year from now? Ten years from now? That'd be so not fair to either of us. I hope he can't see my conflict in my expression. "Send me the contract."

"Good. Glad to hear it." Boyd Walker extends his hand. "I know it's not official yet, but let me be the first to congratulate you. Welcome to the team, kid."

We shake. It's not Boyd's fault. He did me a favor. I still feel like I just shook hands with the devil.

Of course, the moment I step out of Coach's office, the guys want to know all about it. I hedge. I let them know there's interest but I haven't seen a contract yet. They assure me it is coming. They want to celebrate. I want to be alone. I need space to absorb. I don't think they've realized yet what signing a contract will mean--for me--for them--for the team.

I need to figure out what it means for McKenzie. I leave the sports center and move onto campus. I avoid my usual haunts. I don't want anyone to find me. There's three feet of snow but the walks have been kept clear. The sky is blue-bird bright. I wander, trying to breathe in a calm I do not feel.

I find myself outside By George. The fryer grease smell is especially strong in the crisp air. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I didn't eat second breakfast. I'm seated by a window looking north. I have an unobstructed view of Mt. Washington. The peak is not much more than a silhouette at this distance. Mt. Washington is an old volcano. Its exterior has eroded away from the solid basalt plug that corked the mountain. It looks a lot like Mr. Washington is brandishing a stubby middle finger at me.

My server brings me coffee and a menu. The team nutritionist would neuter me if she saw me eating a mountain of pancakes and eggs, but I order them anyway. I'm not going to be her responsibility much longer. The Rangers. I don't know how I can pass. I don't know how I can leave McKenzie. The split in my soul is going to kill me.

"Collin?"

My head jerks up. I almost spill my coffee. The woman before me is a tall, dark haired beauty. She's wearing a sweater, leggings, skirt and a pea coat. She's hot. I've had my dick in her.

"Michelle?" If Vader had me in his grip I wouldn't have sounded more strangled.

"Mind if I?" She doesn't wait for an answer. She slides into the booth across from me. She takes in the view beyond the window. It's like she doesn't want to look at me. "It's been a moment, hasn't it?"

Three months and some change.

"You'd said we'd be friends."

I had not. I'd agreed that we could be, not that we would be. Sure, she could argue I haven't tried to be friends, but that is not all on me. This is the first time I've heard from her since we went our separate ways. I'm not the only one with a phone. Is Kenzie going to try and guilt me the same way? If she does, I'll cave.

"You said you didn't want a girlfriend. Yet you have one."

Damn it Mr. Washington, would you stop flipping me off? It's bad vibes. "I'm sorry, Michelle. I am." Now more than ever. I hadn't wanted a girlfriend exactly because I knew it would mess with my future. This conversation is mangling what little confidence I had. Michelle's a woman. McKenzie is a woman. Evidence suggests that when I bring up the Rangers, McKenzie is going to eat me alive. "Kenzie was my best friend. For years. Now she's more. I didn't plan it that way. I didn't do it to hurt you."

The server stops by to top off my coffee. Michelle takes a cup too. I think it's more to keep her hands busy than to drink. She keeps wringing her fingers. She's upset. She thinks it's my fault. I might think that too--which is messed up. I'm not responsible for her emotions.

"How come we weren't like that? How come I couldn't have been all didn't plan it that way?"

How the fuck should I know? I liked Michelle. If she weren't running razorblades over my already lacerated heart, I'd still like Michelle. In a way, things would be so much easier if I was with Michelle. If it were between the Rangers and Michelle, it'd hurt, but my mind would be clear. Of course, Michelle is only less than McKenzie in my mind. If she and I were together, I'd owe her the same consideration I'm giving Kenzie. I guess that is it though. I guess my mind is clear. I am leaving Kenzie. I just wish I didn't have to.

"If it's any consolation, Michelle, yours isn't the only broken heart."

"Why? Did you dump her too?"

"Soon enough."

"Really?" I was glad I didn't detect any false hope in Michelle's voice. The venom was bad enough.

"I might as well be."

"So, what happened? You put your dick in someone else? You like her better?"

I know she's not trying to be mean. She's hurt. She's spewing her pain on the closest target. That's me. We all do it. I prefer that over manipulation. I understand it. I can accept it. Embrace it. Release it. Forgive it.

But, in a way, she nailed "infidelity" on the head. I didn't put my dick in the Rangers but I am picking them over Kenzie. The same way I picked Ashley over McKenzie in high school. I didn't have any idea how I was going to tell McKenzie. This was going to kill. I didn't know how I was going to live through it. If she didn't murder me, I might murder myself. If she tries to guilt me, she'll leash me and I might never forgive her. I cannot have that. She's my best friend.

"In a way."

Michelle slides from the booth. "You're an asshole," she spits down at me.

Tell me something I don't know.

Team Meeting

Collin

Here's something I didn't know. I'm a fucking coward.

It's been four weeks. McKenzie knows something's eating me. She keeps asking me, "What's up?" I haven't told her. I haven't told anyone. I've had the contract for five days. It's sitting on my desk. I'm almost hoping Kenzie sees it--asks me about it. Then I won't have to be the one that brings it up.

Right next to it is a list of four agents and their numbers. I haven't called any yet. I'm going to. Dad hired a lawyer friend to look at the contract. She has no knowledge of sports contracts, and said so, but confirmed what I'd already determined. It's a shit load of money to work out, show up at practice, do media events and play the game I love. There's even a signing bonus. I'll be able to afford the Big Apple. I can't put this off any longer.

I pick up my phone and do something I've never done. I call a team meeting.

When I'm back from my beer run--because I owe the guys something--the condo's living-room is packed. Most of the team is accounted for. It looks like Potts came straight from the gym--without a shower. It smells like that too.

"Luce!" I bellow up the stairs. I place two bags of suds on the coffee table. I hook a thumb over my shoulder. "There's more in the trunk of the Camaro." I'd been driving Owen's car.

O'Brey and a few others go to retrieve the merch. I'd wiped out the convenient store's entire selection of Deschutes Brewery.

"Yo, let's hurry this along. I left a chick for this," Silas says.

"How's that new?" Matthews, our backup goalie, asks.

"There was whipped cream involved."

"Spare us the details, Casanova," Roman snaps.

"Blondie still won't touch your dick will she?"

"Fuck you." Roman punctuates his words with a middle finger.

Lucas comes thomping down the stairs. "Y'all better have left me a BBP." He roots through the selection on the coffee table. O'Brey and team return with the remaining cases. Lucas plucks an unopened longneck from one of the freshmen.

"You're too young to drink."

The freshman rolls his eyes and grabs another beer from the table.

Potts lifts a brow. "You drink that chocolate crap?"

"What's wrong with chocolate?" Luce sounds offended.

"It's for girls, dude."

Lucas snorts. "Yeah, because only girls like chocolate." He twists off the top and downs half the bottle. "I must've missed the memo."

"Yeah. Hey. Okay! I called you here for a reason," I announce over the BS of my dumbass friends.

"I'd hope so." Silas snipes. "I'd hate to think you called us all here just to chat. That's too girl, even for you."

"Ha! Good one." Potts and Silas clink longnecks.

"I've been given a contract. The Rangers."

Silence.

A beat. A second beat. "Fuck, dude. Congratulations!"

I shove my hands in my pockets. "The moment I sign, I'm off the team. I can't even call an agent."

More silence. Roman clears his throat. "You mean to tell us you haven't signed already?" He sounds incredulous.

I hang my head. "The team. Playoffs. The Frozen Four. You guys."

"You're shitting us. Right? Collin, that's a handful of months," Owen says. "We're talking about the rest of your life."

"But..."

"No but, dude. There's no comparison. This is your dream. This is what you worked for. This is what we all worked for. We're a team. When any one of us wins, we all win. Now sign the damn thing," Silas says. "Besides, I want on first line."

Well, that's that. Actually, I'm kind of touched. Will McKenzie see things the same way?

The Breakup

McKenzie

I bundle up. It's fricking cold outside. I exit Wyatt. I had a computer lab for another statistics class. We're learning S. You'd think NASA would evolve but no, we're still stuck in the nineteen-seventies. I miss statistics with Collin. It gave us an excuse to hang out. Not that we need one. I study in his room or he studies in my room. That's just the way it is. Sometimes he fucks my butt. I like that. Sometimes he does other things to me--things with a condom--things with his tongue. I like that too. Sometimes he kisses me for hours. I like that best. I hurry down the steps, salt crunching under my heels.

As if thinking about him summoned him, he's waiting for me. My stomach flips.

"Hey, Kenzie." He sounds morose. My stomach does more than flip, it knots.

I do my best to ignore the cauldron in my gut. "Hi!" I go up on my toes and kiss him. I think I know why he's here. I've seen the contract sitting on his desk. I'm so excited for him. I'm excited for me. This is his dream, but it is also our dream. He wants it, so I want it. It's been all I can do to bite my lip to keep from babbling about it. He'll talk when he's ready.

I'm just afraid he's going to go all white-knight and make a decision for me that I don't want him to make. I want him to trust me. I want him to talk to me. I want to tell him he has to take it. I want to tell him that no matter where he is, no matter where he goes, I'm still his and that as soon as I can, I'll come to him.

I'd prefer to work in hockey, but I'm not stuck there. He is. I can work in a lot of sports. New York is a wee bit larger than small. It has a lot of sports teams--a lot of opportunities. I can even work in baseball, if I don't fall asleep. He'd do no less for me, I'm sure of it. That's why I'm afraid he's going to turn the Rangers down. That's why I'm scared he's going to dump me. I'm frightened the big idiot will have convinced himself he knows what's best for us, for me, without asking me!

"Would you like to grab lunch?"

Ugh. Not that I'm not hungry, because I am, but I don't know if I can eat right now. But sure. Okay.

"I'd love too." Maybe those were the wrong words. Maybe I should've said, "I love you." But I can tell this is hard for him and those words, right now, might've made things worse.

He leads me away from By George, which confuses me. I'd once told him I couldn't eat there but he'd lured me back. It's the closest place. It has the best food. Instead he guides me to the Student Union. We chat about a whole bunch of nothing while we wait in the cafeteria line. More and more static builds in my nerves. By the time I have my burrito bowl, I feel like I might heave if I try to eat.

We find a table by a window with a view of Looking Glass Lake. It's frozen, with snow, so right now it's just a big flat white blinding expanse. I pick at my food, because, blerg. Collin does the same with the super-duper monster burger I know he can eat in, like, three bites.

"So, McKenzie, I've been given... um... er..."

God, help me--help him!

Collin closes his eyes. He cycles a grounding breath. "Kenzie, I received a contract. To play. With the Rangers."

My relief that we're finally talking about it is so great that my bladder pinches. "Congratulations," I say, and mean it. I ignore the fear clawing at my heart and let the excitement seep in. "Congratulations! I'm so excited for you!" I jump out of my seat so I can throw my arms about him. "You're going to sign it? When are you going to sign it?" I'm a little afraid he's going to wait until after the playoffs. I get that. I do. But anything can happen. I don't want this opportunity to slip through his fingers.

"I've already signed it."

I don't know what to think about that. My stomach twists. I want him to sign but he signed before he talked to me. That means he made his decision without me. That might mean he's trying to make my decision for me. I really wish he'd talked with me first. "That's good." I try to be excited but the words sound cautious in my ears.

"I haven't sent it yet."

Okay, whew! I think. I blow out a breath that flutters my curtain bangs.

"I'll have to drop NCAA hockey and the team."

Well, duh. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that. That must suck."

"I'll have to drop out of school."

That also sucks. "They'll let you take online classes? Right?" Of course I'm right.

"I'll have to move to New York."

I roll my eyes, because I'm not dumb! Or a bimbo! Which, incidentally, originally meant, boorish man.

He rakes both hands through his hair. His gaze falls to his barely nibbled burger. "Kenzie, don't you see? We have to break it off."

I need a wastebasket. This is worse than stepping out on stage at Sisters Exposed. So much worse. I don't know how I hold it together. "Why would we need to do that?" My voice is barely a whisper.

"I'll be there. You'll be here. New York is a whole continent away. A different culture."

"So?" I try for sass. I wiggle my phone at him. It comes off desperate--weak. The way I'm feeling.

"McKenzie" There's so much sorrow in his tone. "You deserve better than that."

It's too much. He's decided. He's throwing me away. Again! I know he thinks he's doing right. He thinks he's freeing me--to finish school--to be with other guys. He's not. I can't be with other guys. I can finish school here and join him there. That's what I want to do! Crackling, high voltage red balls around my heart. "Maybe I do. I want you!" My words come out on a crescendo. I don't care if we draw an audience. I need a pillow--so I can pummel it with my fists.

I see a flash in his eyes. Fear. Desperation. Desire. Misguided love. He doesn't want to do this anymore than I want him to do it. Resignation floods his expression. "I'm doing what's best for you."

He is not, but I give up. He's clearly got it in his head that I don't know what I want. Valentines is in a few weeks. Last year I burned his jersey. I killed my hope. I should've left it dead. I push my plate away. I shoulder my bag.

"If that's how you want it." I sound like a hypnotized zombie.

"McKenzie" Collin slumps. "I'm not doing this to hurt you."

"Then why are you doing it? I was excited for you. I was excited for us. I would've long distanced you. If you'd talked to me before you threw me out you would've known that. I loved you." Past tense. Oh God, it needs to be past tense.

"McKenzie" My name, in his mouth, sounds desperate.

"Goodbye, Collin. Good luck in New York. Don't call me." I'm going to have to pick a different sport. I'll never be able to watch the game I love ever again. I don't know how I'm going to do my job. My heart is hemorrhaging as I trudge from the room.

Guru Ro

Collin

A game is on. I pace back and forth in front of the TV. I charge into the kitchen. Grab a beer. Pop the top. Set it down. Pull my hair.

"What is up with you, dude?"

"I dumped, Kenzie." It hurts as bad now as when I'd done it. No, it hurts worse.

Roman jolts up in the La-Z-Boy. His homework slides off his lap. "You the fuck what? Is that why she hasn't been around?"

It's been two weeks. I've gotten my contract back. A team agent has purchased me an apartment convenient to the rink. She assured me it's in a good neighborhood. I move to New York tomorrow. There'll be close to three-thousand miles between McKenzie and I. "Yeah."

"Dude, that chick adores you!"

"I know. I fucked up. What do I do?"

"How should I know? This kind of thing doesn't happen to me."

I'm pretty sure it does. He's not even looked at another woman since he met Ash. It's been months and they're still dancing around each other.

"This sounds like a you problem."

I know it is. I say so.

"Roses. You need roses. There's a florist in town. I'll get my keys."

"I don't think roses are going to cut it."

"What did you do?" he says. I run a hand through my hair. I give him the run down.

"You're telling me she wanted to LD sext you every night and you turned her down?"

"Something like that."

"Did you tell KZ it was for her own good?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. You sure you're broken up? Because women love that. They love being told what's best for them, what they think, how to act, what to do. Come to think of it, men do to."

Yeah, yeah, I heard the sarcasm.

"Look, bro--" Roman claps a hand on my shoulder. "--you fucked up."

"I already said that."

"Just making sure you haven't forgotten."

How could I? It cost me my very heart. My soul. It cost me McKenzie.

"You need something bigger than roses."

Don't I know it? I just don't know what. "Like what?"

Roman sits on the coffee table and takes on a The Thinker pose. He lifts a brow. "You're not supposed to call her?"

I close my eyes. I nod.

"Hmmm."

I wait.

"Text her?"

I sigh. "Same diff."

"Hmmm."

I cycle a breath.

"Serenade her with a boom box at midnight? I've heard you sing in the shower. If this hockey thing doesn't work out, you could start a boy band."

"Ro, this is serious."

"Hmmm."

I tap my foot.

"Knock on her door?"

I roll my eyes. I start to pace. "How would that help? She doesn't want me talking to her. Don't call, remember? Her sorority sisters would just barricade me."

Roman throws up his hands and makes an IDK face. He looks like a clown. "If you're not going to talk to her, there's only one thing left to do."

"What's that?"

"It's hard."

"Ro."

"I'm not joking, Col. It's really hard. You might not get it right. You probably won't get it right."

I make like Mt. Washington and flip him off.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Roman, what is it?" I snap.

"I'm not good at it. Not at all. Ash reminds me every time she opens her mouth. Nate told you to do this too. I'm betting you blew it. Like totally. Maybe didn't even try."

"Roman!"

"You're going to have to fucking listen to her."

@EmzyStreams

McKenzie

I haven't seen Collin. I haven't spoken to Collin. It doesn't mean I don't know where he's at. He's in New York. He left on Valentine's Day. He's two-thousand-eight-hundred-and-forty-four miles from me and I can still feel him. It's like every time I think of him--which is every moment of always--my heart reaches out and touches him. It's hard to let him go when he's, like, right there.

It's worse when I'm at Hugo Sports Center. I love this place. I love hockey. He's a hockey player. Col's set so many school records here. The sports complex just breathes him.

I switch off the game. The Jumbotron TV in the AV room goes dark. Rachit and I have been reviewing Harvard and Michigan reel--our strongest competition as we approach the play-offs. We could do our work from home. Rachit has been chill since the boyfriend announcement, but I still want to be here. I miss Collin.

Frigging a! It hurts!

Rachit and I compare our notes. Join our findings. Crunch the numbers. Give each other credit. Send a joint email to Eric. I wave as I say goodbye. The halls echo the clip-clop of my wedge heeled booties.

"This is not right and you know it!" It's Coach Wilson's indoor voice but it still booms. It issues from a closed door just as I passed. It's not my business. I keep walking.

"I agree. Ms. Rivers deserves better from us." My boss, Eric, is quieter, but my name catches my attention. I stop. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but now it's my business.

"She's an engaged student. Takes challenging classes. Maintains a 4.0. All her professors praise her. CPU should be honored to employ someone of her caliber."

Now I'm alarmed. That was Professor Allison Jacobs speaking. What business does she have being in the Hugo Sports Center?

Stupid question. She's my mentor. She teaches Sports Health Science classes. But I've never actually seen her here. What is she doing talking to Coach and Eric about me? Why did she say that CPU should be honored to employ me? They do employ me.

Cringing at how my heels click on the concrete floor, I creep closer to the door.

"It is truly regretful, but Cascade Pines University has standards to uphold."

I don't know that voice. I don't like what he's saying. What standards are they talking about? What does it have to do with me? I've done everything they've asked of me.

"Ms. Rivers has been an asset to our program. Her contribution has directly improved the team's performance. If you need examples, we can provide them."

Oh, wow. Coach Wilson said that. He's hard to please. Despite my unease, pride balloons within me. My chest swells.

"Her team performance is not in question," the voice says. I still don't know who he is. "We have standards for our players."

I'm at the room. I want to peek. I can't. I don't dare crack the door. I can hear footsteps. They're not coming towards me. Maybe Coach is pacing.

"Different standards," Professor Jacobs says.

A chair creaks. "They are the same."

"But not enforced," Coach booms. "Has the Board reviewed the social media of all the players?"

Social media? I haven't posted anything but dates with Collin for months. Maybe something with Ash? Maybe a Phi Alpha Phi function? Nothing incriminating. I'm sure of it.

"Do you really want the Board looking into the behavior of your players?"

"She is one of my players! You have singled her out. You can't even claim you're making an example!"

The voice, the one I don't know, sighs. "I acknowledge that the players' behavior sometimes leaves something to be desired, but there have been no complaints."

Complaints? Complaints about me? What are they talking about?

"Ms. Rivers has been nothing but professional, both on and off the job," Eric says. He sounds upset. Everyone sounds upset.

"This is not up for discussion. The Board has made its decision. The team is an extension of the University. The behavior of its members reflects on the school. McKenzie Rivers ran an adult entertainment site, @EmzeyStreams. She was not under aged. She did not do anything illegal. But, we will not have her representing Cascade Pines University. She is to no longer participate in team functions. Come March, her scholarship will not be renewed. We have already sent notice."

"You sent her a letter?" There's a crash and I imagine a table breaking in half. "Mother fucker!" That was not Coach's indoor voice. I swear, the door rattled.

But I have bigger problems than my shattered eardrums. My hands are shaking. My palms are sweaty. My heart is beating three times faster than the Surgeon General recommends.

I take a step. I'm dizzy. My knees try to fold. The hall was bright a moment ago. Now shadows creep around the edges of my vision. I take another step. And another. I pick up my pace. I start to run.

I burst from the stadium doors three strides behind Rachit. I stagger so drunkenly I nearly tumble down the entry steps. I catch a guard rail and fold over it. I heave, but my gut does not empty. I wish it would. Maybe I'd feel better if my heart flopped on the ground.

"McKenzie?" Rachit says, alarmed. He's not the only one. Ro, Luce and Owen are on their way up the steps. Ashley is with them.

In a heartbeat, I'm surrounded by my friends. Ash holds my hair while my stomach tries to crawl out of my mouth. "McKenzie? What's wrong?"

I fall to my seat on the ice melt encrusted steps. I bury my face in my hands.

"I lost my job." I suck a shaky breath. "I can't afford school." My voice warbles. "I'm a whore." I want to ralph. A sob escapes. "Collin dumped me."

The tears won't stop.

Date With Mother

McKenzie

Dad will be here in less than an hour. I need to finish my packing. Today is the first day of Spring Break. Yesterday was my last day of school--possibly forever. I have no money. Mountains of debt. No degree. No future.

I hurt so bad I feel numb.

I pack the last of my bags. All I have left are my toys and my slut-wear. I don't know what to do with them. I have a box, but I can't imagine taking them home. Mother is there. Dad is there. Throwing them away would be a shame. The toys alone represent hundreds of somebody's dollars. But I can't just give them away because who wants a toy that's been inside somebody else.

I mean, I've had dicks in me that have been in other women. But toys--my body is wracked by a shiver--it's the same, but it's not. Not even if they've been disinfected. I'm having trouble imagining it. Because, gross. So what do I do? Once upon a time I wanted to use some of these with Col. Or let Collin use them on me. That's not an option anymore.

There's a knock on my door.

"Just a minute." I move to toss the pile of sex-me on my bed into the box. The door, not latched, eases open.

"McKenzie." Mother's voice is small. There's a note of I-don't-know-what in her tone. I've never heard it before. Not in her voice.

"Mom?" I'm too shocked to get Mother out. Humiliation scorches me toes to nose. My whoring ways are out in the open for her to see. They're on the bed. She can't miss them. I feel light headed. I'm so hot I swear my skin must blister.

Mother eyes my shame. There's rouge in her cheeks and I don't think it's makeup. I wasn't expecting Mother to pick me up.

"McKenzie, honey, do you need help packing?"

What? The word sounds like an expletive in my head. I can't remember my mother ever offering to help me with anything.

She must see the shock on my face. She casts her gaze down and wrings her hands.

"Where's Dad?" I blurt. Not that I want him to see the evidence of my whoring ways either. I don't know if that would be better or worse.

"Parking the car. I thought--" Mother pauses. "--I'd--" She sounds so unsure of herself. "--help you--" This is agony, for both of us. "--pack."

"Who are you?" I ask on a crescendo. It's a legitimate question. She might look like my mother. She might sound like my mother. She's not acting like my mother.

She steps up to the bed and--I almost die of shock--starts folding my underwear. You know, the crotchless panties, the nipple bearing bras, the quarter cups, the bondage gear, the cage panties. She folds it all and places it in neat little piles within the box.

I gape--because what else am I supposed to do?

"You know, I used to wear this kind of stuff. For your Dad. It wasn't quite so fancy in our day, but same idea. Same message."

"Um..." I don't need to hear about this woman--because I don't know who she is--and my Dad getting down. I never want to hear about my Dad getting down--with anyone. But my brain isn't working. Words aren't forming. The only thing that escapes past my unhinged jaw is, "Um..."

"We didn't have these though." Mother's stacking my dildos and vibrators next to my whore wear. She's holding a vibrating rabbit. "Bluetooth? Bet this one is fun."

Oh my God.

"Mother?" My voice is small. Full of fear. It contains the pain of years. I don't trust her. I don't trust this. But I want to. So bad. So, so very bad.

Mother puts the vibrator in the box. She turns to me. There's tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, McKenzie. But I'm so, so sorry. When your sister died, I hated myself. Hate myself. I took it out on all my children, but especially you, honey. There's no reason for you to forgive me. I don't expect you to. But could you--would you--let me try to love you? I know I haven't. Not well. I've been seeing a therapist. I know that doesn't make it better, but..." She wrings her hands. "... you don't have to forgive me, but I hope you do, even if it takes years."

I can't breathe. There's not enough air in this room for two bitches. And she's not being a bitch. Which means there's not enough air in the room for one bitch. My words are strangled. They don't escape. I don't know what to do with my hands. I can barely stand. When Collin came back I swore I'd never again pass on a good now because of a bad then. I've wanted a mom for so, so long. This is my chance. I hug my mom--

--and sob.

My mother pats my back as we cling. A beat cycles. A second. We release each other. We're both wiping tears. Mother waves at the pile still on the bed.

"Let's get this packed before your Dad gets in. I don't think he needs to see this."

On that we can agree.

Islanders

McKenzie

Mother, Dad, Ashley and I are at By George. I'm gazing out the window, trying not to cry. It's probably the last time I eat here. It's probably the last time I see this campus. It might be the last time Mt. Washington flips me off.

Probably not. I still live in Oregon. Mt. Washington will flip me off anytime I head east of the mountains. Since very little of the United States is west of Mt. Washington, it's like George is flipping off the whole country.

"McKenzie," Mother says. I flinch. I can't get over that she's talking nice to me. I like it, but my instincts are ingrained. Rooting them out is going to take time. "I know it's not the same but I've been looking into some programs. For you. For your degree. There's some online schools you could attend."

I know that. I've looked too. They cost money. I don't have two cents to my name. Student debt is going to keep me working as a barista into my eighties.

"I have some money. Not a lot. About five-thousand. It's what I've skimmed and saved. I--your Dad and I--we want you to have it."

I--ohmigod. There's this pain in my chest. It's called hope.

"Thank you, Mom." My voice is strangled. It's weird saying her name that way, but somehow Mother feels wrong right now. "You don't know what this means to me." She doesn't. She can't possibly. It's not money she's giving me... but years and years and years of healing. My eyes are leaking again and I give up on my eye-liner. I don't check my compact. I don't want to know. I've probably had raccoon eyes for the last hour anyway. My phone rings.

It's the Red Wolves fight song.

It's my dream job's ringtone.

The ringtone I programmed for Coach Wilson, Eric and the rest of the team.

For everyone associated with the job I was fired from.

I fish my phone from my purse. "It's Coach Wilson," I say. My voice is strangled.

Mother quirks a brow at me.

"Coach Wilson of the hockey team?" my Dad asks.

I give the barest of nods. I don't want my head to fall off. It feels like anything might happen today.

"Answer it!" Ashley screeches. I jolt and hit the receiver.

"Coach?" I croak by way of greeting.

"Ms. Rivers--" I hold the phone away from my ear. He's always so loud. His middle name could be Loudmouth. "--have I caught you at a bad time?"

Yes? No? I don't know? "No?" The question in my tone is real.

"Would you be available to come by my office?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now. When did you think?"

"I don't know. I thought..." That I'd been fired. That's what I'd thought.

There's a pause on the other end of the line. I've never heard Coach Wilson be soft, but his voice, when he speaks, is soft. "I can't fix the idiots on the Board. I can't fix asshole. I can give you something that might help, maybe, if you want it. Can you come by my office?"

"Sure," I say. "I was just leaving campus." That's close enough to true. "I'll come right over." We disconnect.

I check myself in my selfie-camera. I've been crying. It's obvious. I don't look like a wreck but there's no fixing my watery look. I pop out my contacts and trade them for my glasses. Maybe it won't be so obvious how red my eyes are. I run my fingers through my hair. I turn to Ash. "How do I look?"

"Hopeful."

I do? That's how I'm feeling, but do I look it? I use my phone's camera as a mirror again.

"You look fine, honey," Mother says.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Dad says. I don't even know what I'm going to go get, but I push past Ash in our shared side of the booth. Dad has to stop to pay but Mother and Ashley follow me all the way to the lobby of the Hugo Sports Center. I'm jittery and nervous and I check myself in my selfie-camera again. I don't even know what's going on. I can't imagine anything Coach could give me that would help. Maybe a recommendation? But I can't even apply for a job. I don't have the credentials.

My insides are twisting. I'm panicking. My heart is all fluttery like it's about to stop.

"Wish me luck."

"Luck," Mother says. She holds up both hands and crosses her fingers like some Gen Xer dork. It's so weird having her on my side.

"You got this." Ash says as she hugs me.

I do. I will. I think. I don't even know what this is. I try to shake the jitters from my hands. I leave them and stride for Coach Wilson's office. He calls me in when I knock.

He's not alone. Eric is there. He's in a button down and slacks. Professor Allison Jacobs is there. She's in a casual blazer, blouse and slacks. There's two more gentlemen there. They're both dressed in three piece suits.

With a start, I realize I recognize one of the strangers. He's Lyle Clacher, scout for the Islanders. I freeze in the door.

"McKenzie, dear, come in," Professor Allison says. I shuffle forward. I feel like a mouse eyeballing the cheese in a trap. Coach shuts the door. His office is not small but it's stifling with so many people in it.

"McKenzie, meet Lyle Clacher and Clark Bowsman," Eric says to me. "They're with the Islanders."

I swallow. A beat passes. I remember myself. I hold out my hand. "Mr. Clacher--" I feel faint. "--I--you played for Seattle. I'm--um--a fan."

Clacher's mit dwarfs my hand. His shake is firm but not bone crushing. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Rivers. We, Clark and I, have been hearing good things about you too."

I'm supposed to shake Mr. Bowsman's hand next but I can't help the words that squeak out of me. "You have?" I don't know what's going on. I do know I'm underprepared. They're in suits that could be Prada for men. I'm wearing fricking ripped jeans.

"We have," Mr. Bowsman says. His hand, when he shakes, is more normal sized.

Me? This can't be real. Why would they be talking about me?

Eric is talking. My mind spins with questions. I can't hear him.

"... analyst..."

What? What! Wait! "What? What did you say?" My gaze bounces between Eric and Clark Bowsman.

"Mr. Bowsman is the Islanders' team analyst."

"The Islanders are looking for a new junior analyst to join our team," Mr. Bowsman says.

I'm a lightning rod. I've been struck. "Is this--" I can't process. "--a job interview?"

"It is."

My tongue welds to the roof of my mouth. I look down at myself. At my CPU sweatshirt. At my ripped jeans.

***

It's a dream. It has to be a dream. My brain is full of rainbow sparkles. I don't know where I'm going but my feet are moving. I wander into the Hugo Sports Complex foyer where Mother, Dad and Ashley wait.

"McKenzie?"

"I've got a job." I don't know if they can hear me. I might've whispered.

"You got your scholarship back?" Ashley says. There's joy on her face and a smile in her voice.

"No."

The joy in Ashley's face falters.

"Coach, Eric, Prof--" My brain still can't grasp what happened. Coach called in a favor, or maybe, they all called in a favor. They talked me up. They promoted me. "--they got me an interview. I got the job."

"With who, honey?" Mother asks. I still don't trust her making nice.

"The Islanders. In New York. I start in a month."

"Doing what?" Dad asks.

I'm on probation. I need to prove myself. I need to finish my degree, but, until then, I can work. "I'm a junior team analyst."

It's my dream job.

Mom

Collin

I suck. My skating sucks. I'm not gelling with the team. It's not their fault. My focus is elsewhere. Dumping McKenzie is the crappiest thing I've ever done--and I've done a lot of crappy things. She's all I think about.

I'm going to try and fix it. Fix us. It'll take a miracle. She probably doesn't want me. I wouldn't want me. But, if nothing else, I'll have tried. That said I can't fix us until I fix me.

I dial the number I saved in my phone before practice this morning. A woman's voice answers.

"Professor Kimball speaking."

"Mom?"

A gasp. Silence for a beat. "Collin, is that you?"

"Yes, Mom."

"What can I do for you, honey?" I hear desperate hope. Is it real, or am I projecting? I don't know.

"I'm in New York, Mom. I play for the Rangers." For now. Nothing's been said, but if I don't fix my shit on the ice, they're going to dump me. If I'm lucky, they'll bump me down to a farm team. But it doesn't matter. I made the wrong choice. I should've chosen McKenzie. My dream means nothing without her.

The note in Mother's voice is excitement, joy, hope. "New York is close. We could see each other sometime."

There's razor claws in my chest. They're lacerating my lungs. But, somehow, I still live. I can do this. I pry my choke hold off the past. I embrace the loss. I embrace the gain. I can have a mother. I cycle a breath. "I'd like that."

It's unmistakable. There's true joy in Launna's voice. "Could I see you this weekend?"

The Rangers are traveling. They have an away game. I and the other fuckups are being left behind to work with the assistant coaches. I won't be suiting up until next season anyway.

"I've got practice." I tell her what times. It's four hours to Boston, but she clears her weekend for me. I'm not quite ready to have her in my apartment, but I put Mom up in a nearby hotel. We can meet. Have lunch. Talk.

I've wasted too much time blaming Mom and Ashley for my faults. Mom may have walked out on Dad and I. That hurt, but it was a long time ago. I'm a different person. Dad's a different person. She'll be a different person. Did she do right by Dad and I, no. But that was then. This is now. For all we know, all three of us were better off alone.

Ashley might have demanded I get rid of McKenzie while she, Ash, and I dated. Ashley laid down an ultimatum. Stop hanging with Kenzie or stop dating her, Ash. Ashley was jealous. She was human. I was the one that chose Ashley over McKenzie. I was the one that hurt McKenzie by telling her to never talk to me again. I crushed her heart. Mom's mistake and Ashley's demand doesn't make them bitches. It doesn't make women manipulative. It makes them human. Just like me.

I'm the one that has held women at arm's length. I'm the one that colored them selfish. That's on me. If Mom and I don't work out, that's okay. We are humans. If we do, I have someone new I can love.

I have to trust her.

I have to trust me.

I have to trust life.

I have to learn to love McKenzie. I demand it. She's done nothing but love me. I've called her my BFF. I want to earn that right. I've called her my girlfriend. I want to be that. She's been in my life from the start. I want her in my life until the end. I hope she wants that too. Either way, win her or lose her, I'll love her. She deserves nothing less.

Roundtrip

Collin

I shiver. There's old snow on the ground. The shadows cast by the Three Sisters are long. The temperature is not the reason I'm shaking. It's the ring in my pocket. The woman I'm desperate to have wear it. The fear that she won't even see me. I'd deserve that, that won't stop me from begging for a chance. I knock on the door.

Kenzie's sorority sister, the one that came to the Sin Bin with us, Sophie, answers. Once again the stick of a Blow-Pop or Dum-Dum or something like that is sticking out of her candy slicked lips. The girl likes her sugar. She sticks her head out the gap she made in the doorway but does not open it for me to enter. She doesn't look all that pleased to see me.

"Hi." The greeting sounds cautious. There's not a lot of welcome in it.

"Is Kenzie here?"

"Why?"

I earned that caution. I refuse to be put off by it. Sophie is a good pledge sister to stand by her friend. I steel myself for a tongue lashing. I force my words neutral. "Because I want to talk to her."

"She cried for a month after you dumped her."

Fuck.

"Every night."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sophie sounded upset. She's not as upset as I am.

"Sophie, that's not Roman, is it? Tell him to go freaking fuck himself," a voice calls from deeper within the house.

I grin in spite of myself. "Ashley?"

The door rips open. Sophie, who'd been leaning against it, wobbles. "Col?" Ash looks as shocked as she sounds. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Kenzie."

Ashley's face falls. She'd been in shock when she'd opened the door. Now she looks like someone abducted her best friend and there's no getting her back. "She's gone." Her words echo her expression.

But it doesn't compute. "Gone. What do you mean, gone?"

"She got fired from the tea--"

"She what? Why?" My voice is no more controlled than my emotions. Who in their right mind would fire McKenzie? Of course, I dumped her. That makes me an asshat too. No, that makes me an asshole.

"Because the old men that sit on the school board are dick heads. Kinda like the young men that attend the school." Sophie shoots me a pointed glare as she speaks.

I close my eyes. I cycle a heavy breath. I so deserved that. "Why does that mean she's gone?"

"She lost her scholarship. She can't afford school. Not here."

No. No! NO! This is her dream. I can't let them, whoever "them" is, take it from her. I get paid a fuck ton--for now. I'll give every penny to her. "Where'd she go? Home? Florence?"

"For now."

"What do you mean, 'for now?'" If Ash doesn't hurry up and tell me what's going on, I might just have an aneurysm.

Ashley grants me a secretive smirk. "She got a job... elsewhere."

"Where?" It's all I can do not to shout at this woman who has been girlfriend, frenemy, and friend. I want to shake her. Rattle some words loose. Preferably meaningful ones, not just these vague hints.

"You'll have to ask her."

This is infuriating. How come girls are so difficult? Scratch that, boys and girls, women and men, can be difficult. Why is she being difficult? "Ash."

"Col."

"You owe me."

"Not anymore. You used your free pass."

It was worth a shot. "You owe, Kenzie," I try.

"Yup" The 'P' exits Ashley's mouth with a pop.

I sigh.

"You could always call her."

"I flew all the way across the country so I could see her--so I could apologize--so I could do it right. The way she deserves."

At last Ash's expression softens, but her words don't. "Then you'd better get on the road. Florence is a long drive. It'd be a shame if she left before you got there."

***

It's winter, so getting to Florence takes every minute of four hours. It's after nine. Dark. Raining. I park outside McKenzie's house. I only wondered ten-million times if I should've called to let her know I was coming.

I chickened out. I did not want to hear her tell me not to bother. If she kicks me to the curb, at least I'll have seen her one last time.

I get out of the car. I pull my collar up against the rain. The Rivers house has seen better days but there's a certain charm in the sea shells, fishing floats and driftwood fence. There's a giant rhododendron beside the house. They grow wild on the coast, but it's winter, so the air doesn't smell like McKenzie. Even though I'm a couple of miles inland, if I listen hard, I can hear the Pacific surf. I make my way up the cracked concrete walk and knock.

The very last person I want to see opens the door.

"Collin, this is a surprise." Hazlee's words match her tone. She sounds surprised. She looks surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see McKenzie."

"Mom? Who is it?" That's not McKenzie's voice. April pops up in the entry behind her mother.

"Oh, hi, Collin." April grins. Her dimples reach for her ears. There's something gleefully evil about it. "Someone's come to groveeel," she sing-songs. Mother and daughter exchange a look. That takes me by surprise. Are they getting along? No one gets along with Hazlee.

"Are we going to tell him?" Hazlee asks her daughter.

"Tell me what? This is deja vu. I glance between them. It's Sophie and Ash all over again.

"I don't know. Depends on him, I think."

Hazlee nods in agreement with April. She crosses her arms. "Why are you here Mr. Kimball?"

Fuck. "Mr. Kimball" is not a good omen. Who knew McKenzie had so many bodyguards? I'd expected a confrontation with her brothers, with her sisters, maybe even Todd... but not her mother. I knew it was unlikely but I'd been hoping for a chance to talk to Kenzie before the interrogations began. My chest deflates.

"I wanted to tell her that I fucked up. That I'm sorry. That I'll do anything to make it right by her--even if that means leaving her alone forevermore. I just can't leave without telling her how sorry I am."

"So this is about you," Hazlee says. She sounds disgusted. I'm not sure she has that right given the way she's treated McKenzie for the past twenty-one years. I open my mouth to point that out but April raises a brow and I reconsider.

A weighty, heartfelt sigh slips from my lips. "It's about apologizing. About giving Kenzie a chance to say, or do, anything she needs to."

"How do I know you're not going to break her heart again?"

"How's that your concern?" I growl at April.

"Because I don't want to clean-up your mess. But I will. Because she's my sister," April says. "Because, I love her."

I close my eyes. I didn't want to tell anybody, not until I told McKenzie. "I'm going to marry her, if she'll have me."

Hazlee and April both quirk a brow. It's eerie how in sync they are. "Proof?" they say in unison.

I remove the ring from my pocket. April's looking over her mother's shoulder.

"Oh my God." April's vibrating. Her hands are over her mouth. She starts to bounce. "She's getting on an airplane! Dad took her! PDX! Hurry!" April's words are rapid fire. The last word is delivered as a shout.

I've taken three running steps towards my rental car. I skid to a stop. "Where?" I bark at April.

"PDX!" April shouts. "Why are you still here?"

"No. Where is she going?" I ask, because if I don't find her in Portland, I'm going wherever she's going.

"New York."

New York. Where I live. Was she coming for me? I guess it doesn't matter. She could be going to Auckland. I'd still follow her. I leap in my rental and race back to where I started.

Reconciliation

McKenzie

The lighting is on low. The sky beyond the portal is dark. It's late. I'm sleepy. I snuggle into my seat. It's big. And roomy. And comfy. Flying first class is an experience every traveler should have, at least once. I could never afford it--but my employer--the Islanders--I'm still freaking about that--purchased my plane ticket.

I can't afford the Big Apple either. But, again, my employer came through. They're putting up in temporary housing until I can find a place of my own--or six months, whatever comes sooner. By then I hope to have enough saved so I can find a place to settle down. I've spent a lot of time crunching cost of living numbers. I'm not worried. My paycheck is not stingy.

I pull my travel blanket up to my chin but sleep eludes me. That pulse in my heart, the one that tells me where Collin is, has been wacko all day. Right now it feels like he's right beside me. He's not, but I still check every ten minutes.

I pull out my phone. It's on airplane mode, but I pull up Col's contact information anyway. I wonder if he's changed his number. He hasn't called. He hasn't texted. I told him not to call. So, maybe, he's respecting me? Like I did him? For six years. I can't handle that.

I should not have told him to not call, because now the ball's in my court, and I want to talk to him so bad. I want to tell him about what happened at school. I wanted to share how frightened I was when everything was falling apart. I want to tell him about my new job. I want to share my excitement. I want to see if he'll share an apartment with me. I want that so, so, so very bad. I don't care that he walked out on me. Well, that's a lie, I do. But he walked out because he thought it was best for me--stupid man--that doesn't change the fact that I want to live with him. Everything is brighter, everything is better, when he's with me. He multiplies me.

I stare at his contact. I nibble my lip. If I can't reach him by phone, I know where he works.

The seat beside me has been open all flight. Someone drops into it. My mouth falls open. I'm so stunned. There's this piercing pain in my chest. It feels like it might explode.

"Col?" It's a strangled sound. My heart has crawled into my throat. It's a struggle to breathe.

Collin won't meet my eyes. He folds over his lap. Which gets in my way. I wanted to crawl into it.

"Hi, McKenzie."

His voice is quiet, subdued. I can hear the pain. God, I want to kiss him everywhere. But I can't. Not yet. We need to fix things. He needs to know I'll stand beside him no matter what. I need to know he will take me wherever he goes.

He wrings his hands. "McKenzie--" A beat pulses. "--I screwed up."

You did. Please, please, please be trying to fix this.

"I didn't listen to you. I didn't give you a chance to speak."

That was true. That was so true. A pained sound escapes me with my next breath. It had hurt me. Until this moment, I hadn't realized how much. "I..." The word, the only one I have, warbles.

"I'm sorry, McKenzie. I have things I want to say. Things I'm desperate to say. But... please, talk first. Please talk last. Please, just talk."

"What if I don't want to talk?" I whisper. Everything thing hurts. I'm wearing my glasses but his visage blurs.

Collin doesn't lift his head. He's talking to me, but his words are directed towards the floor. "Then I'll listen to your silence."

I sit with that. Just his presence makes me feel... more. Like we, together, are more. But I don't know what to say. No words are right. There's pain. There's desperate, clawing need. There's love. What will cause us to heal? I'm terrified I'll choose the wrong words.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. I don't want to go first.

But I don't want to go last. "Col?" I touch his arm. "Collin, please look at me, please."

He lifts his gaze. His eyes are big. Vulnerable. Spiced rum pools. I just might drown. I just might be drunk.

"Collin, I can't do another six years without you." I'm stroking his arm. I can't stop. "I can't do six months. Six weeks. Six days. I should've..."

"Kensie, I shouldn't have decided withou--"

"I'm not done." My voice is not loud, but it is sharp--more razor blade than I meant it to be. He snaps his mouth shut.

"I should've shouted. I should've screamed. I should've made a scene. I would've--I will follow you anywhere. I knew you were just scared like I am right now. I shouldn't have just walked out. I do not want to live without you. Please--"A wet ragged breath blows out of me. Everything shudders. Tears sting. "--don't make me."

Collin waits.

"I'm done," I whisper. I can't see him. There's this ache in my throat. My glasses have stopped working. He's just a watercolor blur. I think I see tears. Pain. Joy.

Unfettered, unexpected, joy.

"McKenzie," his voice sounds as choked as I was. He reaches for me. I come to him. I'm in his lap. I sob into his shoulder.

"I was so dumb. I was a fool. I can't focus without you. I can't play without you. I can't do my job. Because my life is not the game we both love. My life is you. It's always been you." His chest rises and falls. I listen to his heartbeat. He continues. "You make me better. You make me more. I can't imagine life without you."

"I don't deserve you, no man deserves you, but I was the one that hurt you, again. I am so sorry. You don't owe me forgiveness, you don't owe me anything, but I want forgiveness. I want everything--anything you'll give me. I want your days. I want your nights. I want your love. You already have mine. Take me back, toss me aside--like I deserve--you'll always have my love--for all time."

A sob flies out. There's this pain behind my sternum. It's unshed tears. It's uncontainable joy.

"I'm so sorry. So sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Yes." The word hurts as it leaves my chest. There's healing in its wake. "I forgive you," I whisper, like there's anything else I could've said. I'll always forgive Collin. He'll always forgive me. I know it. He's my Earth. I'm his Moon. We will always be together. There's no other option. Everyone is staring. I don't care. I have eyes only for him, even if I can barely see him.

Big, solid musclely Collin melts over me. Tension bleeds from him. "Thank fucking, God," I think I hear him breathe. Minutes bleed by where he does nothing but hold me. His warmth, his strength, his presence soaks into me. My heart begins to knit back together.

"You're going to New York?" Collin's voice is low, quiet, full of wonder.

"Yes." I try to bury my face in the crook of his neck.

"You have a job there?"

I hurt. I'm so incredibly happy. I smile through my tears. They won't stop flowing. "Yes."

"Will you move in with me?"

I sob. I sniffle. I laugh. "Yes." I choke on my joy.

"I have something for you."

"Yeah?" I breathe into his neck. I just want to be held... forever. He shifts, jostling me. I think he digs in his pocket.

"Kenzie, I'm so sorry." There's something in his hand. There's a blue flash. It's sparkly. "I can't promise that I'll never be stupid again. I can promise I'm stupid in love with you."

Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. He's holding a ring. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. A big, sparkly, blue-ish diamond. My chest is expanding. I feel like I'm going to explode. I smile so wide my ears hurt. Happy tears are flowing. I can't help it. Because--ohmigod!

"McKenzie Haden Rivers, would you do me the honor of being my wife? Would you take this ring as a reminder of my promise?"

I don't care if people are staring. I don't care if passengers are sleeping. I don't care if I'm being over excited--bimbo--girly. I know I'm not. I don't care what anybody else thinks.

"Ohimgod!" Have I said that enough? Because--Oh! My! God! "Yes!" I shout. I'm already in his lap. I grab his face. I cover him in kisses. Right there. Over eastern Oregon. On route to New York. On route to the rest of our lives.

Epilogue

McKenzie

I nuzzle into Collin's shoulder. I huff a scent. Cedar. Fir. Man. Good. Safe. I cuddle closer.

Ugh. It's a struggle to move.

Collin pauses the game.

"Everything okay?"

I know what he's asking. The answer is, "No." He did this to me. After the twins are born, his dick isn't getting anywhere near me ever again. Probably. Maybe. My butt. That's safe. My chest deflates in a quiet sigh. The pregnancy has gone well. I'm not so scared now. We're doing this again. Two kids aren't enough. It's so fun making them.

I don't answer his question. "You did it again," I say nodding towards the screen.

"Did what?"

"Faked right, went left. You fake that way seventy-eight percent of the time. You're overcompensating for your off hand."

"Is that why Silas keeps stealing the puck from me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Did you tell him?"

I roll my eyes. Of course I told him. Silas is on my team. "I did."

Ugh. Swallowing a watermelon has nothing on babies. First, swallowing a watermelon doesn't fricking freak me out. But I wanted little Collins. Collin wanted little Kenzies. Not a lot of ways to do that. Secondly, watermelons don't kick. The stomachache goes away. You're back doesn't, like, hurt for three months. There's this pain right in the middle of mine. Tonight it's worse. I keep having those Braxton hicks things and it really hurts.

"You shouldn't give away my secrets, Kenzie."

"Silas is on my team."

"Man before team. Us before the world. Right?"

"You want to be your best, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, how are you going to be your best if I don't push you--" Oh, ow.

Ow. Ow. Ow. I struggle to sit up. I feel like an oblong medicine-ball on a waterbed. I'm a couple of days late and I'm so ready for this to be over. I swear our twin girls are just hanging out to irk me. It's like they have cell-phones already and just can't be bothered with, you know, the rest of life. So like teenagers already. I wonder how many hits they have on social media. I cycle a couple of centering breaths and then, ohmigod, OW!

My belly bands and everything pushes. I feel this rope burn in my womb and then I'm wet. Very, very wet.

"Col?"

Collin's still trying to tell me man before team or some shit like I'm fricking listening right now.

"Collin!"

Collin huffs like I interrupted him. I did. I don't care.

"What dear?"

"It's time."

"Are you sure?"

Fair question. There'd been four false alarms. "Yes I'm sure!" I scream. Ohmigod, that hurts. I love my man. I love my babies. But--why?

Collin stares at me. I can't get off this couch. I need his help.

"Do something?" I ask. I huff a couple of heavy breaths. I get a lungful of my man. Somehow his scent calms me down.

He freaks out. Collin races about our apartment. He peppers me with questions. He's drilled a million times and he still doesn't know where shit is. I tell him. He gathers everything. He flies out of the apartment.

Silence falls.

I'm still on the couch.

I've counted to twenty-three before the door flies open.

"Oh, fuck. Kenzie" He helps me to my feet. I imagine it's like wrestling with the Michelin Man. I kiss him when I'm finally upright. He's a hockey player. A star center. A contender for player of the year--again. My husband. My man.

My absolute best friend in the world--from four to twenty-four. From four to forever.